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"Ron, I need an explanation," Hermione asked, exasperated.
"Can't a man invite a beautiful woman to dinner at such an elegant restaurant?" Ron replied with a beaming smile.
"An explanation, Ronald. We broke up a year ago; I’m only mentioning it because you seem to have forgotten," Hermione smiled ironically.
Ron nearly choked on his wine. "Well, I’ve missed you. It’s been a long time and I want to talk about us."
"You mean to say that suddenly you feel like talking about us and going out to dinner?" Hermione arched an eyebrow, incredulous.
"I’m serious, I’ve missed you. I don’t know what I was thinking a year ago, please," Ron insisted, trying to sound convincing.
"It seems you missed me... or is it more likely that you weren't happy with your other half? What was her name, your Latin beauty? Oh, right: Andrea," Hermione said with icy calm.
He choked again. "She wasn't my other half, I'm telling you. I made a mistake and I want to fix it. And Andrea—the 'Latin beauty' as you call her—returned to her country, Ecuador, six months ago. I’ve spent all this time gathering the courage to talk to you again. She didn't want children, and honestly, she lives up to the song her exes dedicated to her by Ozuna, 'La Rompe Corazones.' I had to use a translation charm on the lyrics, and I found out why she was fascinated and offended at the same time," he whispered the last part, looking down.
"That wasn't what you thought a year ago; you said I didn't make you happy anymore," Hermione hissed.
"No, Hermione, you're the one who truly knows how to make me happy," Ron said with puppy-dog eyes.
"Ha! You're forgetting one tiny detail," she whispered.
"What?" Ron asked, confused.
"When you decided to be single, I did too. Did you think I was going to wait for you to get bored of your Ecuadorian mamacita? That's what you called her; I haven't forgotten," Hermione hissed with venom.
"No, but I thought you'd at least take some time, not replace me so quickly," Ron replied, starting to get annoyed.
"Seriously? Are your neurons even firing, or what? Don’t you dare insinuate that I replaced you. You were the one who showed up, flushed and desperate, saying you needed to talk to me, that you weren't happy and we needed to go our separate ways," she declared, furious.
"I don't know what happened to me. Maybe I was cursed, maybe it was Amortentia... that must have been it," Ron pleaded, grasping for any excuse.
"DON'T LIE! When you introduced her, you said she was just a coworker. Then, just friends. Two weeks, Ron. Two damn weeks and you made it official. You paraded her around, so proud of her. You told me I was crazy, but I always knew. I stayed silent thinking it was just a phase. The day we broke up, you said you hadn't slept with her, but now I doubt it. Maybe nothing physical happened then, but it makes no sense that two weeks later you were 'completely in love.' You're a traitor. Worst of all, you don't even regret it, and you never apologized," Hermione raised her voice, drawing stares from nearby tables.
"I didn't know what I was doing, Hermione. I never wanted to make you feel that way," he whispered, cornered.
"I’m sorry, Ronald, but while you were living your fairy tale, someone else arrived to help me pick up the pieces of the heart you broke. He comforted me, showered me with attention, and won me over. And to that man, one night, I gave my body, my soul, my mind, and my being, in a way I never did with you," Hermione said with a seriousness that cut through the air.
Ron began to cry. "I still want you in my life... because I love you."
"Now you cry, now you say you love me, now that there's nothing left. I'm sorry, but I feel neither love nor hate for you; I feel nothing," Hermione concluded. "I have to go, they're waiting for me at home. Take care, Ron, I'm sure someone else will come along."
Suddenly, a rabbit Patronus burst into the restaurant. A voice in Spanish echoed urgently: —“¿Amor, dónde estás? ¡Tengo contracciones, ven AHORA!”
Hermione looked at him with infinite contempt. "Seriously, Ronald... are you aware that I know Spanish? Your 'ex' is in labor and you're here trying to seduce me. Truly, your brain isn't working," she hissed, disgusted.
"Mione, I'm sorry, I have to go. Send me an owl or a message, I have a cell phone now," Ron said frantically, tossing thirty Galleons on the table before rushing out.
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "The check, please."
It was only twenty-five Galleons, so she left the rest as a tip and walked out into the cool night air.
"Hello, love. How did my girls do with the weasel?" a voice drawled, his tone serious but laced with possessiveness as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting protectively over her still-invisible belly.
Familiar arms wrapped around her waist, and his scent enveloped her instantly: it was home. New parchment, expensive cologne, mint, and green apples. Draco. Her Draco.
"That bad, Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked softly, placing a tender kiss on her temple.