Chapter Text
The breakup, according to the ever present rumor mill of Hogwarts, was the most dramatic event that had ever happened at the school. To the most zealous of students, it was the turning point of the history of the entire world.
Hermione felt alone in thinking that maybe, just maybe, the war that took place only a few months prior was more influential to the future of the Wizarding World than the so-called golden couple parting ways. She didn’t believe in giving two teens all the credit for why the world was so messed up. If anything, Harry and Ginny’s relationship was just something that got caught in the war’s crossfire.
In the hours since Ginny dumped Harry, Hermione had heard dozens of theories, all framed to be one hundred percent true, about what exactly occurred. The only consensus she could confidently reach was that Ginny was, in fact, the one who ended things, and she did so because she caught Harry cheating.
After that, the details get foggy.
The first time Hermione heard of the breakup was early that day, mere minutes after the breakup occurred. Despite more than seven years of practicing magic, magic still never ceased to amaze her. News spreading to every corner of the massive castle so quickly was implausible, yet was made possible by some 11 year old brandishing a polished stick. She knew mobile phones were beginning to gain popularity in the muggle world, and muggles were perfecting the art of instant messaging, but she had to admit that since learning about her magical abilities, she had paid less attention to muggle inventions. So to her, the wildfire spread of gossip was shocking.
The gossip started out fairly tame; the third years she first overheard discussing it alleged that Ginny found Harry flirting with another girl. But as time wore on, the theories got more and more out of hand. At breakfast, some students at the eighth year table (who, at this point, should know better than to believe gossip about Harry) were quietly debating Harry’s supposed kiss with someone who wasn’t Ginny. On her way to arithmancy, Hermione was stopped in the hallway by a group of fifth years who wanted to know why Harry would dare to have sex with his mistress in the Great Hall.
Hermione honestly couldn’t believe that people could be so gullible.
The mystery girl Harry was with kept changing, too. Some people said they saw him with Cho Chang, but others were sure it was Lavender Brown. Hermione even heard her own name being thrown around. But her favorite was probably the idea that Harry would cheat on Ginny with a first year (she figured the first year in question started that rumor).
To Hermione, the craziest thing about all of this was that people actually believed Harry would cheat. Clearly, they didn’t know Harry as well as they thought they did. Beyond his contributions to the war effort, the stuff that would surely be in textbooks some day, no one other than his closest friends really knew Harry at all. Everyone else cared more about scandal and how they thought Harry should act than the truth.
By lunch, Hermione was sure the Prophet would have an entire front page dedicated to the scandal. That would only make matters worse for Harry, who hadn’t yet explained his side of the story. She knew Harry didn’t pay much attention to the papers, other than a quick perusal of the Quibbler every once in a while, but he wouldn’t be able to escape this. It wasn’t fair that in exchange for being essential in defeating Voldemort, he got newspapers and magazines that felt they had the right to invade his privacy every single day. She had an idea of who in the school was responsible for feeding the press with information, but there was really nothing she could do about them. She had no idea how to fix this mess.
All she knew was that she really, really needed to talk to Harry.
~~~~~~
Hermione never thought that Ron of all people would buy into the rumors about the breakup, but by the completely cleared out common room and the familiar voices of her two best friends screaming at each other, it seemed that that was exactly what had happened.
“Harry, I don’t think you understand that she’s my sister! My baby sister!” Ron’s voice echoed through the entire room.
“Oh no, I get it Ron, but what you’re not understanding is that I didn’t cheat on her! It’s all just a misunderstanding, and if you’d just give me a chance to explain–”
He cut Harry off, “Explain?! Explain what?! That you went and had a hell of a night with Brown or Chang or whoever the hell it was?”
“You don’t even know who you’re accusing me of cheating with! Isn’t that enough reason to at least hear me out?!”
“Are you seriously telling me to believe you over my own sister?! Honestly, I can’t believe that you’re even trying to lie to me right now. At least respect me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Ron. I am telling the truth!”
“Why are you doing this to us after everything that our family went through? Merlin, Harry, did you even think?!”
Harry pleaded, “Ron, I’m serious, please just listen, I’m–”
“After everything my family has done for you, this is how you repay us?!”
A red hot flash of anger appeared in Harry’s eyes, “Don’t you dare bring family into this.”
“What Harry? Why can’t I? You’re not the only one to have lost family to The War now.”
“You–!”
Hermione rushed out from the shadowed walkway into the common area, physically getting between the two boys and forcing them apart. “Guys! Guys! Please just— let's just calm down and hear each other out, okay?” She looked both of them in the eyes in turn. “We’ve been through too much not to have faith in each other.”
As she stared them both down, she felt the tension in the room begin to dissipate. For a moment, she began to have hope that this would all blow over after a long, long, long interrogation. That hope kept building with each second spent in silence, every second where the anger ebbed from both of their stances. Yes, a conversation was all they needed.
Merlin, the entire population of eighth years were probably eavesdropping on them. They were going to have to do so much damage control after this, but she consoled her mind by reminding herself that they could clear this all up and in time, they’d be back to being the Golden Trio again. After all, they needed to be putting up a united front.
Her hope vanished in an instant when Ron opened up his mouth, “Hermione, I don’t have anything left to say to him,” Despite addressing her, he never took his eyes off of Harry, “If he has anything to explain, explain it to my sister.”
With a turn of the heel, he made his way to the entrance of the dorms before turning back to look at Harry with resentment on his face, “Or better yet, my mum.” A slam of the portrait door followed, a yelp of surprise coming from the elderly inhabitant within.
A look of frustration came over Harry’s face, “Merlin, why does he always have to be so damn stubborn?”
The inhabitants of the portraits began coming back into the room one by one, murmuring and whispering about what had been said in a not at all quiet way. Great, now the entire castle will know about this little feud, too.
Hermione looked between the back of the entrance and Harry, hesitation clear in her posture. With a sigh, he said, “Just go, tell me when he’s decided to stop being a twat.”
~~~~~~
Hermione caught up to Ron halfway down the hallway. As she ran, the heads of other students turned to follow her, her footsteps landing heavily on the stone as she struggled to catch up to her boyfriend. A few of the first years openly stopped in their tracks to watch her, jaws dropped, eyes sparkling with hero worship. A brave one even began to approach her for an autograph when she ran past with a gust of air and a rushed apology with the promise of finding them again soon.
It turned out that being the keeper for the Gryffindor quidditch team gave you more stamina than a racehorse. By the time they were matching strides, Hermione was already out of breath. She could tell that he was intentionally trying to make it difficult for her to keep up. She knew this, but she also knew that if she tried to call him out on his tantrum right now, it would only make his attitude even worse, and that was the last thing she needed.
“Ron,” She said, doing her best to appear completely unbothered by the absurd pace they were walking at, “Ron!”
He answered through gritted teeth, “Merlin Hermione, what is it?”
“Why do you guys always have to do this?” And then under her breath, “And why am I always the one cleaning up the mess…?”
“Well it’d be a lot easier if he wasn’t being an arsehole,” Ron said.
“All I’m saying is that you guys can at least try to actually hear each other out for once,” Hermione huffed, “It’s not like it’ll kill you.”
“Don’t know ‘bout that ‘Mione, listening to him always seems to get us into some near death experiences, and somehow he’s never the one hurt.”
“Now you know that’s different,” Hermione said.
Ron suddenly took a sharp right that left Hermione scrambling after him, “He’s sacrificed so much for us, for the entire wizarding world, just listen to him and hear him out! Please!”
“Sacrifice?!” He yelled, “What about everything that I’ve sacrificed for him?! Do his sacrifices mean more because he’s the Chosen One? Bloody hell, ‘Mione, you sound exactly like his groupies.”
Hermione cringed inwardly as different groups of students turned towards their conversation as Ron’s voice got louder and louder. She could feel the stares branding them, following them, no doubt already ready to talk about the breakup of the Golden Trio so quickly after the war. It was like a brand on her skin, an accusation that their friendships weren’t really that strong after all, that they weren’t all that the papers had promised. She suppressed her urge to shush Ron, to tell him that they had bigger things to worry about.
She hated how it felt like she was the only one looking at the bigger picture, how she was the only one that seemed to understand that they were more than just themselves now. They were the hope of the entire wizarding community, a ‘Beacon of light for the future’ as The Prophet put it. People looked to them for instructions on what to do next, they saw them as proof that they could rebuild from nothing again.
It was suffocating. It was suffocating and difficult and she could feel the eyes on her every move. Publications across the entire world owled her for quotes, for thoughts on a rebuilding project, opinions on the effects of the war on the future. There were even a few that had somehow managed to get ahold of her muggle email, bombarding her with question after question, requests for interviews and appearances.
It was as though they expected her to have the answers to all the questions in the world. Offhandedly, she wondered if this is how Harry felt his entire life.
She knew that she did her best to answer everything and reply to each question with the most effective and empathetic answer, but at the same time it always felt like it was never enough. The most carefully worded answer to a question would spark outrage in this group or that group in the wizarding world, and in those moments where she read letter after letter of criticism she wanted to be able to just ignore all the reporters the way that Ron and Harry did.
She also knew that that wasn’t her.
She wanted to care. She wanted to do the research to give a proper response, she wanted to be able to give hope to her community, be of help. It was everything that she had ever hoped for, chased after, and dreamed about.
From the moment she began attending Hogwarts, what Hermione wanted above all else was to be competent and educated.
She had poured in years of her life to the pursuit of this goal, and now she was actually in a position where what she says matters to people. She didn’t understand how Harry was able to deal with this pressure for so long.
By this point, they had walked all the way onto the grounds of the school where there were less people and Hermione had had enough.
She planted her feet and shouted, “Ron Bilius Weasley!”
This was finally enough to get him to stop in his tracks. With a huff, Hermione continued, “Look Ron, the three of us have been through so much together already and it would simply be stupid to let a possible misunderstanding be the reason why we’re not friends anymore.”
Ron furrowed his brows, staring off to the side, not saying a word.
“You two are always doing this, by now I would’ve thought that you guys might’ve, oh I don’t know, learned to give each other the benefit of doubt? Hear each other out even? Why are you guys always like this? We fought a war together. A war! We stuck to each other through all of that, we’ve been friends for nearly half our lives!”
“And–” she sighed, exhausted, “And, Merlin, Ron we almost died for each other, that has to count for something.”
After a moment of silence, he said, “...Well Fred actually died, so that definitely counts for something.”
Hermione flinched back, “Ron…”
He met her gaze, “Say whatever you want, but I’m backing my family right now. You wouldn’t know the feeling, would you?”
“You are such an arsehole.” she spat out.
With that, he turned and left. Hermione didn’t try to follow him.
~~~~~~~
Still reeling from the less-than-constructive conversation with her boyfriend, Hermione decided to find Harry. She figured she had given him enough time to drown in his own thoughts, and now it would be wrong to not attempt to pull him out. Over the years of their friendship, she had never known him to use healthy coping mechanisms or to deal with problems in a productive manner. Hermione knew Harry valued her logical perspective, no matter how much Harry swore he could handle things on his own. The truth is, his heart almost always got in the way of his head.
So no, the challenge for Hermione wouldn’t be what to do once she found Harry; it would be finding him in the first place. Knowing Harry, he went somewhere quiet and devoid of students. In any other situation, the obvious choice was his own dorm room, which he shared with Ron–the eighth year dorms were two people per room, both in acknowledgement of their age and the small number of students who chose to return–but Hermione could see that option being unappealing to Harry, considering the circumstances. The thought of Ron walking in on Harry’s brooding session that Ron was the reason for was funny to Hermione, but it probably wasn’t to Harry.
Hermione considered checking Myrtle’s bathroom, but she remembered that Myrtle was undeniably there all the time. She was sure Harry didn’t want to see Myrtle.
Finally, Hermione decided to check the astronomy tower. It was definitely quiet, and hardly anyone went up there outside of class time because the stairs were unnecessarily exhausting. Harry was the type to think that amount of exercise was worth the view and the peace the tower offered those who suffered the climb.
And now Hermione would have to suffer that climb, too.
By the time Hermione made it to the top of the tower, she was panting and sweating as though she had just run a marathon. “Harry better be up here,” she muttered.
Thankfully, she found Harry on the observation deck. He was leaning against the railing, resting his forearms across the thin, cool metal bar and gazing out across the castle grounds. It was midday, so the tower’s lanterns were turned off and the deck was cast in shadow. Despite Harry’s loyalty to the light side, Hermione thought that in that moment, the dark suited him. It complemented the mood she assumed he was in. She couldn’t see his face from her vantage, but from the hunch in his shoulders, he seemed to still be upset.
Hermione walked quietly to Harry’s side, matching his stance as best as she could. Harry didn’t look in her direction, but she knew that he knew she was there. She looked out on the castle grounds, too: the way grass that always looked freshly cut gave way to acres and acres of forest, filled both with creatures familiar and ones so mysterious even she didn’t know of their existence. In the distance, the hills of the Scottish highlands were tinted blue as they cut through the atmosphere.
“I’ve come up here a lot since term started.”
Hermione was startled at Harry’s sudden comment. She looked over to him, but he was still looking over the grounds. He continued, “It reminds me of the night Dumbledore died, obviously, but it’s so hard to connect a place like this with something like that.” A small, sad smile appeared on his face. “I mean, it’s so beautiful at night. There are so many stars and galaxies and whatever else is up there. You could never see all that from Privet Drive… It’s not the same up here at this time of day, but it’s still really nice.”
He trailed off, the smile slowly fading from his face. Hermione stayed silent, wondering if he had anything else to say and not wanting to disrupt his train of thought or pressure him to speak before he was ready. So, neither of them spoke for a while, and Hermione lost herself again to the terrain.
Harry once again shocked Hermione out of her serenity when he stated plainly, “You’re here to ask about the breakup.”
Too quickly, Hermione answered, “No, I’m here to see if you’re alright.”
Harry chuckled humorlessly. “Two things can be true at once, I guess.”
“I do want to hear what happened from your perspective, though,” Hermione conceded.
Once again, there was silence. Hermione looked back at Harry, and Harry finally turned to look back at her, or at least in her direction. He seemed to be looking past her, or through her like she wasn’t even there. He looked conflicted, as though he was trying to figure out whether he could trust her or not. Hermione felt a little offended, but she couldn’t blame him after he had just fought with his best friend of more than seven years, and she was supposed to be Ron’s girlfriend and biggest supporter.
Finally, Harry answered, “I didn’t cheat on Ginny.”
“I didn’t think you did, Harry,” Hermione said.
Harry scoffed, his mouth straightening to a thin line. “If only your boyfriend would believe me that easily.”
Hermione chose her next words carefully. “I believe you, but… could you tell me exactly what happened, anyway?”
Harry lifted his arms and turned to face Hermione fully. Hermione could see how truly upset he was now; he looked smaller somehow, like Ron had taken part of him away with his biting words. There were always bags under Harry’s eyes these days, but under the tower’s shadow, they were much more pronounced and made him appear completely drained.
“I was with Cho, but not like that,” he started. “We were just talking. I know we broke up and everything, but that was years ago, and I really value her as a friend. But Ginny…” he sighed, wiping a hand over his face as though he was trying to wipe the anger from it. “Ginny was always upset when I hung out with Cho. I didn’t realize how much she hated it until today, though. We were just talking and laughing. I’m not even sure what Ginny thought she saw… maybe we were standing a little too close? But one moment, I was just talking to Cho about how unfair it is that the eighth years can’t be on the house quidditch teams this year, and the next moment, Ginny was there and ripping into me, and Cho was gone. She probably left as soon as Ginny started yelling. Wish I could have done that.”
Once Harry was finished, Hermione smiled understandingly. “I believe you, Harry. I’m sorry Ron and Ginny don’t.”
Harry didn’t answer. He seemed to be out of things to say on the subject, and when he turned back to face the grounds, Hermione felt like she was intruding more than helping. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked.
“If that’s alright.”
“Of course it is,” she assured him. “But lunch has definitely started by now. You should come down soon if you want food.”
“I think I’ll just skip lunch, ‘Mione. But I promise I’ll be at dinner tonight.”
Hermione nodded, and left it at that. She thought about squeezing Harry’s shoulder, but decided against it when she saw how absorbed he was becoming in the scenery. She turned away and walked back inside the tower. That didn’t exactly solve everything, but everything seemed a bit clearer. Now that she knew what happened from Harry’s point of view, maybe she could convince Ron to at least hear him out. She smiled in victory, no matter how small the victory was.
That smile quickly faded when she remembered she would have to walk back down the stairs.
~~~~~~
Halfway through dinner, Hermione decided that Harry just wasn’t going to show up. She knew that despite his promise, this would probably happen. Harry wasn’t the type to like the attention that comes with drama. To him, any press was bad press.
Ron wasn’t there, either. That was more surprising, considering everyone was on his side. Hermione probably had something to do with that; Ron must still not be over their argument. Though, neither was Hermione. Ron had really hurt her. He was usually one of the kindest people she knew, but when he was really angry, he could be almost unforgivably cruel with his words.
“Hey, Hermione, have you spoken to Harry recently?”
That was Seamus. When Hermione sat down at the eighth year table, the people around her went quiet. She could tell they all wanted to hear her opinion on the breakup, but she wasn’t very willing to give it to them without them at least talking to her. Seamus was trying to play it off as a general inquiry on Harry’s wellbeing, but everyone knew what he was really asking.
Well, Hermione wasn’t impressed by his doctored small talk. “Why yes I have, Seamus.”
There was a long silence in which Hermione should have probably elaborated. But if everyone was going to treat her like an idiot, she would act like one.
They all stared at her as though she was insane. Hermione took a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “You know, it’s funny how Yorkshire pudding isn’t really a pudding at all. Not in today’s terms, anyway. Perhaps they should change the name. Don’t you think so, Seamus?”
There was some more uncomfortable silence in which Hermione continued to eat, before Seamus sighed. “Sure…”
Suddenly, the door to the Great Hall swung open, revealing the man who everyone was dying to see. Harry Potter finally arrived.
Much to his chagrin, it seemed. He looked as though he was melting under the stares of nearly every person in the room. The only person who wasn’t looking was Ginny, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring his appearance. He strode quickly across the Hall to the eighth year table, eyes glued to the ground in front of him. To the untrained eye, he looked guilty. To Hermione, he just looked exhausted.
When Harry reached the table, Hermione smiled at him and scooted over. When he sat, she glared at everyone sitting near them, daring them to ask him about Ginny.
“How are you, Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. “The same, really.”
Hermione frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Did you go to your classes today?”
“Hermione, please. Stop acting like you’re my mum,” Harry snapped. After a moment, he sighed. “Sorry. I’m not angry with you,” he said regretfully.
Hermione let the conversation die off. She watched Harry put some beef and a jacket potato on his plate, and as he ate dispassionately, she wondered what he showed up for, other than the fact that she asked him to.
“So Ron’s not here then?” Harry asked. He was clearly trying to seem apathetic to Ron’s absence, but Hermione could tell how much it hurt that his best friend was hiding. She shook her head. “Right, then I think that’s enough food for me. Goodnight, ‘Mione. Sorry.” He stood to leave, and Hermione didn’t try to stop him.
So that was that, then. The Golden Trio, revered in the eyes of the media and the entire Wizarding World, was over and done with. How could she possibly fix this if Ron wouldn’t even show up to dinner? This was a complete disaster.
Not wanting to watch Harry leave the Great Hall like everyone else was, Hermione instead cast her eyes down the eighth year table. At the end of the table, with the other students giving him a wide berth, was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was, unsurprisingly, watching Harry. He wore an expression Hermione had seen on him every time she ran across him in the hallways or looked his way in class; guilt. It was like the look was permanently etched on his face as punishment for his actions in the war.
Malfoy looked down at his plate once Harry was halfway to the doors. Then he looked right at Hermione, but he realized she was looking at him, too, and quickly swiveled his head back down. That was strange. Why was he seeking her out, when the drama was right in front of him?
~~~~~~
Over the next few days, tensions in the castle lifted a little. People Hermione didn’t know were seeking her out the normal amount again (the normal amount, however, was still far too much for her liking). Most people had accepted that Harry Potter was not the perfect savior they thought he was, no matter how wrong their reasons for suspecting so were, and moved on to alienating him.
The writers of the Prophet were losing their minds over the story. The breakup headlined the paper every day since it happened. News had been slow since the war and following trials ended, but surely that didn’t mean they had to use school drama to maintain engagement. It was bottom of the barrel stuff, in Hermione’s opinion.
Any paper that writes an article with the title “Romps in the Sheets with a Hairy Potter: Hogwarts Student Tells All about the Chosen One’s Scandalous Sex Life” needs to reconsider their research integrity. And Hermione really needs to figure out a way to stop people from leaking absolutely anything to the press.
Neither Harry nor Ron had shown up to dinner since the breakup, and Harry was skipping lunch too. Hermione was worried about both of them. Harry was probably punishing himself more than anyone else could by hiding away from the world, when it would be better to show his face and explain himself. People may be inclined to look down on Harry when he's done something they don't like, but he was still the savior of the wizarding world. That gave his opinion some credibility, and Hermione knew they would listen if he spoke. Dragging it out like this was only making it worse for him, and she wasn't sure how much more he could take. And Ron may be stubbornly avoiding dinner and his best mate, and he was being an all around frustrating man, but he was still Hermione’s boyfriend. She cared about him. Ron's family matters had been complicated since the war, so him lashing out at Harry and her like he had shouldn't have been a surprise.
So, Hermione hadn't been the best girlfriend to Ron by fighting him back and ignoring him. Determined to fix things between them, she went to where she knew she could always find him in the evening: in the common room, challenging some poor sod to a game of chess.
Tonight, Ron was playing with Neville. Neville was decent at wizard chess, but he wasn’t nearly as good as Ron. Few people were. Hermione didn’t like to play wizard chess with Ron because it was one of the few things he was better at than her. She always argued that because she grew up in a muggle family, Ron shouldn’t expect her to be incredible at a magical game. Ron always countered that the wizard part of wizard chess didn’t change the fact that it was a muggle game.
Ron ordered one of his knights to take out Neville’s last bishop. The knight jumped at the chance, eagerly smashing up the bishop until it was a pile of white rubble. Neville sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. “I should have seen that coming."
Ron shrugged. “To be fair, I had you a bit cornered.”
“You’ve had me cornered the entire game!”
“Ron?” Hermione interjected. Ron looked up at her, taken aback by her presence. When he just kept staring at her, she continued, “Can we talk?”
Ron nodded. He was clearly annoyed that she interrupted their game. “This will only take a minute, Nev. Your move next.”
Hermione pulled him away from the few people who were in the common room and sat him down on a couch. She sat next to him, though not as close as she would normally sit.
“How are you?” she asked.
Ron scoffed. “Really, Hermione? After everything, that’s what you ask me?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Ron, I heard asking that question was considered polite!”
“Sticking up for your boyfriend is polite!”
Hermione nearly spat out a reply, but she stopped herself. This was not why she wanted to talk to Ron. She tiredly tugged at one of her curls, not quite meeting Ron’s eyes as she stated, “I spoke to Harry. I think it would be good for both of you if you listened to what he has to say about everything. It’s nothing like what everyone else has been saying.” Ron stared resolutely into the fireplace, looking seconds away from another outburst. “Just… please, Ron? For me?”
Eyes softening at the plea, Ron turned to face Hermione. He didn’t answer right away, but he seemed less and less resistant to the idea of talking to his friend as the seconds passed. Just as Hermione thought she had gotten through to him, he shook his head. “I can’t, ‘Mione. I can’t listen to him after he hurt my sister like that. I’ve known Ginny for almost my entire life, and I know she wouldn’t lie about this.”
“Don’t you think there’s a chance she could have misinterpreted what she saw?” Hermione asked.
Ron scowled. “What, Harry getting it on with another girl? I can’t imagine how she could have misinterpreted that.”
“Maybe that wasn’t really happening. Maybe she saw them standing a little too close and… jumped to conclusions?”
“Ginny doesn’t jump to conclusions!” Ron shouted.
“Well maybe she did this time! But you’ll never know if you don’t pull your head out of your arse and talk to Harry!” Hermione shouted back. She couldn’t stop herself from getting angry when Ron was provoking her. “You can be so obtuse sometimes, Ron! Would it kill you to consider a perspective that isn’t your own for once?”
“Oh, so it’s my fault now, is it? Is it my fault for believing my sister when she tells me things?” Ron stood abruptly, causing Hermione to lose her balance at the sudden shift of the cushions. “You know what, Hermione?” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. His voice had gone eerily quieter, but it didn’t matter because everyone in the common room was listening now. “You may think you’re much better than me and everyone else, but never–never!–try to tell me how to handle my own family.” Ron turned on his heel to walk away, but stopped to look over his shoulder at Hermione. “Especially not after what you did to yours.”
As Ron stomped back to his game with Neville, who looked terrified, Hermione fled for her dorm room. Hannah Abbott was blessedly absent from their shared space, so Hermione felt no shame in bursting into tears. She sobbed into her pillow as the hurtful words Ron had thrown at her sank in. Ron implying that she did something awful to her parents, when he knew her intentions were to protect them from the war, was the worst part of all of this. He couldn’t have gone for a lower blow.
Hermione had been trying so hard with Ron, but he was making it almost impossible for her to fix things. After everything they had been through together, their relationship was in shambles because of a breakup that really shouldn’t have affected them. Though in all honesty, Hermione couldn’t blame this on Harry and Ginny. The problems in their relationship began months ago.
~~~~~~
When the war first ended, Hermione, of all people, knew that this would only be the beginning. The first thing that happened was the mad scramble for power. Before justice and healing, it would always be power.
She, having actually paid attention in her history classes, knew this very well. Ron and Harry? Not so much.
When the Prophet asked Harry to make a statement, she knew that whatever he said would be used and twisted to fit a new agenda for the Ministry, for the banks, for every wizarding community that had any part in the struggle. The allure of power was great, and the vacuum left in the wake of war would be a chance that would only come (hopefully) once in a lifetime.
If you wanted to be anyone in this new world, now was the time to act.
In truth, Harry hadn’t wanted to make a statement at all, but Hermione knew that not making one in it of itself would be a statement altogether. The title? “The Chosen One Refuses to Comment on War: Turning his Back on the Wizarding Community?”
Somehow, in one way or another, it would just go back to everyone hating him. Despite how strong she knew he was, she didn’t think that he could handle that right now.
She told Harry as much, “Well it’s best to be neutral right now with how chaotic everything is, we’ll have more time to think about what would be best later after everything is… well…” she looked around at the demolished ruins of what once would have been recognizable as Hogwarts.
Harry blinked his eyes closed with a sigh, “I just don’t understand why they couldn’t have waited until at least after everyone has been laid to rest.”
Just a few days out from the death of Voldemort, things had gotten marginally better. For one, they were clean now with new, warm robes. The weather was deceptively sunny, the sky was clear. If not for the rubble around them and the hanging knowledge of all they had lost, she could almost imagine that she was back in her first year, ready to learn everything she could about this new world she was being thrown into.
Seeing Harry back in robes was strange for her now. As was the feeling of robes on herself. She wondered if Harry was feeling the same way with how he was picking at the edge of the seams of his. Spending so long in muggle clothing had made her nostalgic for her childhood. She wondered then, in the spare moments where she could look at herself in the mirror, if this was what she would look like if she never found out she was a witch.
She wondered if Harry ever thought about that too.
But alas, here they were in robes, still clutching wands a bit too tightly to be casual, pondering why and how the wizarding news cycle was still functional not 100 hours out from the last spell being cast.
She gave him a sad smile, “The entire Wizarding community is lost right now. They want to know what direction they should be going, and they’ve decided that you’re who they want to turn to for that answer.”
Harry groaned, “Why do they always have to do that?”
“Well, no use being bitter about it. If it’s any consolation, they’ve also contacted me and I’m sure they’ve at least tried to talk to Ron, so at least you’re not alone in this anymore.”
“Why can’t they contact only you about it? Merlin knows you’re spades better than Ron or I would ever be at ‘giving statements.’”
She looked down, “I don’t think Ron is fit to give any statement right now.”
Harry glanced at her before continuing to play with the hem of his robe, “How is he faring?”
Hermione thought back to how tightly he had hugged her when he told her the news about Fred, shoulders shaking. So, “How you’d expect.”
He nodded knowingly and the conversation descended into a silence that said more than words.
The headline for the Prophet came out the very next day. Another wonder of the news cycle. At this point Hermione wasn’t even surprised. Begrudgingly, she took a copy of the newspaper being distributed by the main entrance. Right on the front page was Harry dressed in yesterday’s robes, looking at her with what she could only describe as a steeled stare. He didn’t move very much.
The title: “Harry Potter: Focused on Rebuilding, Not on Death Eaters.” She breathed a sigh of relief. That’s really about as neutral as they could’ve hoped for. She skimmed the first few lines of what was written. Around all the flowery prose detailing the battle and the theorizing speculations of what “The Chosen’s Words actually mean” the message seemed to, at least from Harry’s own words, center around unity.
She flipped through the rest of the paper. Predictably, every story was somehow related back to the war, and, more accurately, the end of it. How the economy would have to recover, how the Ministry’s handling the muggle side of things (not particularly well), scathing stories on various death eaters, and a few personal anecdotes from the writers.
Towards the end, she saw one that drew more than a few connections back to the first war. The writer ended the article with the line, “If the Second Wizarding War could happen so soon after the first that was supposed to end all wars, what is stopping a third from emerging again?”
A chill ran down her spine. A third war… no, no, that could never happen. She would not let it happen. Folding the paper as best as she could before shoving it into her robes, she set out to find her two best friends.
She went to find Harry first, right where he was yesterday, and with little convincing, was persuaded to go find Ron. They both agreed that they were overdue for a visit at this point. They knew where he would be, right in the Great Hall where the rest of his family was.
The moment that the Weasley’s saw them, they knew who they were there to see, but not before Molly Weasley crushed them both with a hug.
Ron was pale and had dark bags under his eyes, but upon seeing them, still gave an exhausted smile.
Hermione gave him a small smile back, “Hey Ron, care to join us for a while?”
With a small nod towards the rest of his family, he started walking with them. Finding a quiet spot to talk was both difficult and easy at the same time. No one still in the castle was in the mood to make much noise, yet the destroyed building meant that there were a limited number of spots that were uninhabited.
By the time they found somewhere suitable, the sky was painted in splashes of orange and pink.
Ron spoke first, “The Prophet asked me for a quote yesterday.”
Hermione and Harry laughed, “See Harry, I told you!”
Bewildered, Ron looked between the two of them, “What is it?”
“They were interviewing Harry yesterday and I guess they thought they might as well set up interviews with the rest of us because they asked me for one just that morning. I was telling Harry that they probably got their hands on you too.”
Weasley’s eyes widened, “Bloody hell, they already interviewed Harry? Absolute vultures, they are.”
“Not only did they interview him,” Hermione pulled out the paper from her robes, “They already published.”
Ron took the paper from her outstretched hand, glancing over the front page, “Merlin Harry you look right depressed in that photo.”
“Thanks Ron,” Harry said sarcastically.
“Wait, wait, not focus on the Death Eaters? What are you saying?”
“I mean, I feel like they are not really important right now in the grand scheme of things, with how–” Harry looked around at the rubble around them, “things are looking right now.”
Hermione chimed in, “And besides, they won’t really be able to actually escape anywhere, they’ll be punished and locked up in Azkaban sooner or later.”
Ron frowned, “That’s just stupid.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, “What do you mean?”
“They killed people, they’re dangerous. We need to find all of them, and when we find them, they should be thrown into Azkaban to rot,” Ron looked up at Harry from where he sat, eyes stormy, “How could you say to not focus on the Death Eaters when they killed Fred? When they killed Dumbledore? Lupin? Sirius?”
Hermione interjected, “Stop it Ron! Harry is right, we have to focus on the people that are here and being there for them, we can’t put more hate into the world, that’s not going to do anything for us in the long run.”
Ron turned to Hermione with a betrayed expression, “You agree with him?”
“I was the one that told him to say what he did.”
Harry’s eyes darted from Hermione to Ron and then back again, “Guys, lets just talk about this, there’s nothing to get upset over.”
“Nothing to get upset over?” Ron’s eyes snapped back to Harry, “I would’ve expected Hermione to say that but I never would’ve thought it’d come out of you of all people.”
Hermione’s breath caught, “What are you saying, Ron?”
Ron stood up, “You know what I’m saying. You’re not the one that lost people involuntarily.”
Harry took a step towards Ron, “You take that back. You know just as well as we all do that it wasn’t even close to involuntary.”
Ron huffed, “Piss off, she’ll never know the feeling, you know that. I’m going back to my family.”
They watched him leave, stomping all the way.
Harry turned to Hermione with a sympathetic expression, saying, “I’m sorry that he’s being such a tosser.”
“It’s alright,” She replied. She saw a look of doubt cross Harry’s face, as if he didn’t really believe her. She wasn’t sure if she believed herself.
~~~~~~
The three of them hadn’t spoken about policy decisions much after that. They each gave their own statements to the press individually with Ron taking the absolute opposite opinion from the two of them. That was that, Hermione supposed, not as if they can really change his mind at this point.
As Hermione sat down for dinner still thinking about Ron’s reaction to Harry and Ginny’s breakup, she couldn’t help but wonder if that day so many months ago was the start of the fracture between them.
Harry had already been skipping the dining hall for a week at this point and Ron hadn’t been any better. After that first day that Ron didn’t show up to dinner Harry had taken it upon himself to take all of his meals in some other part of the school. It felt ridiculous that she had to play a round of hide and seek every time she wanted to talk to her boyfriend or her best friend, so on the third day, she had given up. If they wanted to throw a fit and isolate themselves, so be it, she wasn’t going to try to be the negotiator between them anymore.
Just as Hermione was resigning herself to another meal spent alone, she saw a familiar head of red hair round the corner. Resolving to not pay him any attention until he spoke to her first, she continued eating her cauliflower.
Ron eventually made his way to the seat across from her, plopping down with an expectant glance in her direction.
Hermione moved on to her ham.
With a sigh, Ron started to load his plate with food, “Not gonna say anything to your boyfriend?”
“It didn’t seem like you had anything pleasant to say to me for the past week so I figured I should stop trying,” Hermione managed between mouthfuls of food.
Ron rolled his eyes, “Look ‘Mione, I’m sorry I lost my temper with you, I shouldn't’ve said what I said, but can you blame me?” Hermione’s head shot up, “Harry was being a right twit and
honestly if he could just admit that he was wrong then maybe I would’ve actually heard him out.”
“Harry was a twit? What about you?”
“Ginny said he was cheating on her!”
“And you didn’t even bother to hear him out on it! That’s ridiculous!” She could feel the judging eyes of the other eighth years at their table turning towards them, failing miserably at concealing their eavesdropping.
“Merlin 'Mione, will you just drop it? And for the record, until I hear it from my sister’s lips herself I still believe he did it.”
“You’re insufferable. Absolutely unbelievable.”
Ron looked around, “Speaking of, where is he? Too ashamed to show his face is it?”
“Actually,” Hermione took to aggressively slicing her steak, “He hasn’t sat in the dining hall since you started being an arse.”
“Wonderful, has he finally had enough with the fawning media and fans?” Ron snorted.
With a loud clang, Hermione’s knife and fork dropped onto the table, “You’re a horrible person, you know that?”
Ron’s expression dropped and he got up to leave. Hermione watched him for a few moments as he walked to the door, stomach slowly dropping as she realized what she had just said. Belatedly she realized that half the room now had their eyes on her.
Standing up abruptly, she started shoving her belongings into her bag before chasing after him.
She could barely keep track of him as he expertly weaved through the crowd of students. She tried to squeeze between the students, but it was like they knew how badly she needed to leave and were holding her hostage for the fun of it. She thought about levitating herself above the crowd, but the teachers who were still present probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Detention was the last thing she needed when she was already seconds away from losing her mind.
When she finally got out of the Hall, Ron was already turning the corner at the end of the corridor. She cursed under her breath, taking off in a sprint after him. Adrenaline brought on by guilt and anger filled her body, and she was sprinting faster than she had ever done before. The corridors were littered with students, but they jumped out of the way in fright as Hermione barreled past.
“No running in the!–” the portrait of a Tudor era man, whose canvas had a disturbing slash where the neck should be, started, but Hermione was long gone before he could finish. “Ah, she can’t hear me now, can she?”
“No one ever listens to you, Humphrey,” the nextdoor portrait of an Edwardian lady in grey answered.
Hermione found Ron walking leisurely up the stairs, as though he wasn’t the most incorrigible human on Earth. It was just Hermione’s luck that as soon as she reached the bottom of the staircase, it started moving, keeping Ron safely out of her reach. “Oh, I’ve had enough of this–RON!” she shouted.
Ron jolted in surprise and began speeding up to a run. But he didn’t get far before his girlfriend screamed, “Don’t you dare run away from me!” at the top of her lungs, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
Hermione could feel the eyes of at least a dozen students burning into her. She needed to compose herself before this got more out of hand than it needed to be. So, taking a deep breath, she said as calmly as she could manage, “You and I are going to have a private chat. Okay?”
When the staircase finally returned, Hermione stormed up it and grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his robe. She dragged him into an empty classroom and locked the door behind them with a flick of her hand. Ron’s eyes widened at the wordless, wandless magic. “You always scare me when you do that. It’s mad how often you do it now,” he exclaimed.
Hermione decided not to tell him it was easier when she was angry, which she often was around Ron these days.
“We’re not here to talk about magic. Unless a miracle is what it will take to get you to stop being such a twat about Harry and my parents,” she said.
Ron groaned. “If this conversation is going to be you trying to convince me to talk to him, we may as well save ourselves some time and leave now. Because I’m not interested in whatever you have to say.”
Leaving wouldn’t be a bad idea, Hermione thought. Realistically, Ron was never going to back down. He was far too stubborn to listen when Hermione was trying to reason with him. If he had already decided how he felt about something, nothing would ever change that. So, they could just agree to forget it and move on with their lives. They could figure out their own relationship instead of worrying about someone else’s, let Harry deal with his own mess. It sounded nice, but Hermione knew it could never be that simple.
Ron and Hermione’s lives were tangled with Harry’s; they had been from the moment they met. And now that Ron was pulling away from Harry, Hermione was being pulled in two different directions. How could they exist as anything but a trio? The Prophet certainly didn’t think they could.
And that’s the problem, really. Papers like the Prophet could spin a story in any way they liked. No matter what Hermione did, she would always lose. But she couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. The worst thing you can give a bloodthirsty news outlet is nothing because it gives them the opportunity to say whatever they want, and then they become ruthless.
If Ron understood how important that was, maybe they could fix this. “Have you read the Prophet at all since this all started?” she asked.
For the first time in days, Hermione saw Ron laugh. “Yeah, they’ve really stitched him up with some of that stuff!” He snorted, shaking his head at the memories of some of the things the paper had published recently. “Even I know most of it is rubbish. It’s funny, after how much they’ve fawned over him since the war.”
Hermione bit her tongue before she could start shouting again. “Do you have any idea how much influence those stories have?” Ron raised his eyebrows, interested in the new direction Hermione was taking. “It’s not all about what we want, Ron. The war may be over, but reparation efforts are far from finished. Real change needs to take place so a war like that never happens again. Like it or not, Harry, you, and I are the faces of that change, and people look to us to know what to do. If we stumble, even for just a second, people will think the entire movement is collapsing.”
Hermione looked into Ron’s eyes, noting the uncertainty he was letting slip from under his mask of defiance. “This is us stumbling, why can’t you see that? Fighting over this nonsense when there are other things to worry about! The Prophet is saying we care more about this stupid misunderstanding than the stability of the entire Wizarding World! So if you won’t do it for me, if you really feel nothing at all over losing your best friend, talk to Harry because you have to. You must, because we didn’t fight and lose people we love just to see nothing change.”
At that point, Hermione couldn’t stand to look at Ron anymore. She was baring all of her fears for the future to him, and there was always the chance he wouldn’t care. Though they had been together for months, and had known each other for years, she still never knew what he was going to do. His motives were an enigma that only he seemed to understand. This encounter felt like the final test, and Hermione couldn’t tell whether she passed or failed.
Hermione closed her eyes, letting her heavy head drag down until her chin was almost touching her chest. Seconds passed without either of them saying a word. The silence went on for so long that Hermione thought she had won.
But she hadn’t won.
“So that’s what this is about, huh? The… the politics of it all?”
Hermione snapped her head up at the sudden switch of his tone. Ron was seething. His eyes were electrified with anger, and his brows were furrowed so the skin creased between them. Hermione’s face fell. It was clear that once again, they were nowhere near being on the same page.
She scrambled for something to say. “You know that’s not all I care about!”
Ron laughed hysterically, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying, turning away from her. “But it is. That’s what all of this is about to you. You, me, Harry. All of us, together in a happy little friendship forever.” Hermione felt tears building up in her eyes. Despite everything, she had never seen him this angry before. And it was her fault. A moment passed while Ron tried to gather himself. Then, he whispered damningly, “Why are you still with me, when it’s clear you’ve chosen him?”
“What?” Hermione said, shocked.
“You’ve chosen Harry over me. Again.”
And suddenly, Hermione wasn’t in that empty classroom anymore. She was in a dimly lit tent, and she hadn’t slept in days. Being on the run took a toll on both her mind and body, so much so that she hadn’t even seen the signs. She wasn’t the only one who was struggling, and she hadn’t realized how much Ron was suffering until it all came to a head. Ron ripped the locket from his neck, throwing it carelessly to the floor. He asked if she was staying or leaving with him, and the choice seemed so obvious. She watched him storm out of the tent, and heard the crack of apparition.
He came back, eventually. They could blame it on the locket. They could kid themselves into believing it sucked the life out of him, and that’s the only reason he left. They could say it was the harsh circumstances of their situation, on alert at all hours and running themselves ragged searching for the Horcruxes. They could forget about what Ron thought he saw happening between Harry and Hermione. But this time, there was no locket to blame. There was just Ron and Hermione, and this fight was of their own making.
At some point, Ron had moved further into the classroom and away from Hermione. His gaze was desperate, pleading Hermione to prove him wrong. Begging her to choose him for once.
“I…” Hermione desperately wanted to deny it. She thought, no, knew Ron was wrong. But if she knew that, why couldn’t she say anything?
In an instant, Ron’s face went blank. Though he didn’t look angry anymore, Hermione only felt more upset by the change. It meant he was hiding how he truly felt from her, pushing her away. “You settled for me, because Harry wasn’t available,” he deadpanned. “Did you ever truly like me, ‘Mione?”
“Ron, you know that’s not…” Hermione’s voice broke. She could feel tears building up in her eyes. She was frustrated at her own inability to convey her emotions. Hermione wasn’t even sure what it was that she was feeling.
Ron shook his head slowly, disappointed with her response. “Well, Harry’s available now. Go get him, since that’s clearly what you wanted in the first place.”
Making his way back to the door, Ron paused in front of Hermione, leaning down to meet her eye level. And up close, Hermione could see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. She stared resolutely back at him. The tears were flowing freely at this point, but she couldn’t bring herself to wipe them away or care what he thought of her. Seconds passed in silence, the tension growing thicker between them until there was no air left. Every inhale felt like a stab to her lungs, so she held her breath.
Finally, Ron asked, “Wouldn’t it look good to the media if you and Harry were together?”
Before Hermione could process what he said, Ron stood up straight and walked the rest of the way to the door. He hovered his hand over the doorknob and seemed to be concentrating hard on it. When a few seconds passed where nothing happened, he sighed angrily. Taking out his wand, he muttered, “Alohomora… I can’t do it, alright?” Then, he slipped out the door and was gone from her life.
Hermione could only watch in stunned silence as the door slammed shut.