We Were Gold

April 2002

Monday

The briefing had gone as anticipated; Harry hadn’t vomited, and Ronald was enraged. I could see the accusation in his eyes when Harry introduced Draco, similar to the expression he wore when accusing me of ‘fraternising with the enemy’ at the Yule Ball. Harry and I, and to some extent Ginny, had discussed how best to handle any possible outburst at the news; it had been decided that a nonverbal, wandless Muffliato and body-bind would be the safest bet, guaranteeing a blood-free, uninterrupted morning.

I was struck, not for the first time, that I was waiting for Ron to grow up. Draco had left behind the prejudiced, combative boy from Hogwarts, and turned into a kind, even-tempered man. He and Harry, sworn enemies from their first day at school, were now steadfast friends. Draco had done everything he could to distance himself from his past, personally and professionally. Ron had always been happy to rest on his laurels and allow his reputation from the war open doors for him. It had been the source of innumerable arguments between us; I hated using my status as the so-called Golden Girl to be given things I hadn’t earned, whereas Ron relished being recognised as a war hero.

That difference had led to me dragging my feet to decide a wedding date; I could not bear the thought of my wedding being turned into a media circus. I wanted an intimate, formal ceremony that allowed me to experience my childhood fantasy of walking the grounds at Pemberley; Ron wanted to host the “event of the year”, full of photographers and reporters underneath the goal hoops at the Chudley Cannons’ home pitch. I twisted my engagement ring around my finger anxiously; I could only put off Molly’s marriage machinations for so long, and I was lucky to have delayed her as successfully as I had.

The moment that Harry had finished the briefing I was on my feet, dragging Ron by the wrist behind me to officially welcome Draco to the auror department. I hugged Harry before attempting to find the best way to reintroduce the two wizards without bloodshed.

Draco held out a hand, determined to move past their shared history; Ron looked as though he was going to ignore it, grasping it briefly before dropping it like he had been shocked. I couldn’t help but notice the difference in the two men as they stood facing one another. They were the same height, but where Ron had a soft build with lanky arms and legs, Draco was pure, lean muscle. Draco was in a custom-made suit that fit him like a glove, stretching across the corded muscle of his shoulders and chest; Ron was in a wrinkled polo, with khakis that were at least one size too small. Even their hands were opposites; Draco had long, graceful fingers, with scarred knuckles and a platinum signet ring while Ron had large, meaty palms and short, thick fingers. A shiver crept down my spine as I watched Draco clasp Ron’s hand in his before lazily combing through his hair. Odd.

Ron wrapped me in his arms and tucked me into his side in an intimate hold; I tried to take a step away but, like Devil’s Snare, he only gripped me tighter. Draco glanced at me before quickly looking away, clearly uncomfortable with the over-the-top display of affection. I invited him to meet Ginny for drinks after work; Ron’s glare burned a hole in the side of my face, but I ignored him. I wanted to celebrate with one of my closest friends, one who had been resolutely in my corner since the day I accepted his apology.

* * *

Ignoring my post-drinks takeaway, I stormed out of the kitchen, waiting until I had entered our bedroom to let the tears fall. Ron had never been known for his sensitivity, but to have made it so blatantly clear that he could not have been bothered to listen while I opened up about one of the worst days of my life was heartbreaking. I felt worthless; my partner, the man that I had agreed to spend the rest of my life with, had not deemed my sorrow about the fate of my parents to be noteworthy. If he didn’t care, if he didn’t remember something so important to me, who would?

I ignored the voice in my head that insisted that Harry and Ginny and Draco would remember; Draco who remembered which flavour of Sugar Quills to keep on hand for me while I read, Harry and Ginny, practically my adopted siblings. I sobbed into my pillow, Crookshanks curled into my side, gently nudging my face with his. He had always been cold to Ron, even at Hogwarts, but it had worsened since Ron had officially moved in six months ago. I frequently wondered if there was something that the half-kneazle could sense that I couldn’t; Luna would assure me that he could, and that I should trust him.

But Ron had been a constant in my life since I was eleven years old; I couldn’t picture my life without him, hell, I couldn’t picture my life before him. I remembered that my mother always told me that relationships have ebbs and flows, that sometimes there were bad times. However, she also reminded me that if a person couldn’t respect you outside of what you could do for them than they didn’t deserve your time.

I was half asleep when Ron stumbled into the bedroom several hours later, the smell of butterbeer overwhelming. It was hours before I felt into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

Tuesday

Snoring woke me before my wand alarm. Ron was flat on his back, mouth open, still dressed in his work clothes from the day before. I kissed Crookshanks and quickly dressed for the day, before rushing out of the flat, refusing to risk seeing Ronald before work. I was still furious, but beyond that, I was hurt, and I didn’t know if I could look past his behaviour anymore. I had been making excuses for him for over a decade, and I was tired.

Harry rushed into my office the second I sat down, a stack of parchment in his hand. “Hermione- wait, what happened?”

“What do you mean, Harry?” I asked, already reaching for my most recent case.

He pointed at his eyes. “You’re all puffy.”

Excellent. I hadn’t even spared my reflection a glance this morning, and evidently it was clear that I had fallen asleep crying. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my relationship with Harry, nor any of my recent misgivings, especially not when I knew Ronald would attempt an apology this morning, at work of all places. I reminded him that I was an adult, who could take care of herself, which he promptly ignored, demanding to know why I was upset.

Our battle of wills was interrupted by Draco entering my office, a tray of takeaway cups in his hand. I took a sip, surprised to note that it was a flat white, something I had mentioned to him during our seventh year when he asked if I preferred tea or coffee. I was touched that he had bothered to remember such a minor detail, especially in the face of my argument with Ron last night.

He and Harry left my office shortly thereafter, and I had fifteen minutes of peace before someone was knocking on my door once again. Assuming it was Harry, I began to reassure him that I was, in fact, fine, only to look up and be met with Ronald’s smiling face.

He offered a half-hearted apology, as expected, along with a bouquet of squashed yellow roses and a sweet, milky tea. I conjured a vase for the roses, hoping that some water would bring them back to life, before dismissing him, ensuring that he took his tea with him; after years of oral hygiene lectures, I couldn’t stand the thought of drinking sugary drinks.

* * *

My day flew by; I worked through lunch as always, and without having to worry about meeting Ron to floo home (as I still wasn’t speaking to him), I worked later than usual, only packing up when I saw that it was nearly 5:30. I rushed to the lift, surprised to see Draco waiting as well; aurors tended to wrap up their days at 5:00 on the dot unless they were on call overnight.

We fell into comfortable banter about my need to defend him from anyone who might give him trouble for his history; we had had many similar conversations in the Head’s dormitory after I caught him nursing a black eye from a student who wanted to take out their anger on the ministry’s scapegoat.

Our conversation was interrupted by Ron waiting in the atrium; Draco was clearly uncomfortable with leaving us alone, having correctly deduced the reasoning behind my red, swollen eyes this morning, but when Ron made it clear that he was going to offer a genuine apology, I assured Draco that we were fine.

Ron promised me that I was important to him, that he didn’t want me to feel like an afterthought in his life, assured me that he would make more of an effort to prove it; I had heard it all before, but I was too exhausted and eager to move past this latest argument to challenge his sincerity.

We floo-ed home to enjoy a dinner from Molly and watch my favourite television show; Ron watched unenthusiastically, commenting the entire time that he didn’t understand why I enjoyed it. In turn, I performed unenthusiastically in our bed later that evening, rolling over the second he came, pretending to be asleep when he pulled me into his arms for a post-coital cuddle. In our ensuite later, after he’d fallen asleep, I imagined that long, pale fingers were sinking into my dripping cunt in place of my vibrator, signet ring pressed to my clit. My orgasm hit me like a train, muscles clenching and spasming, ears ringing. As I crawled into bed afterward, I pushed all thoughts of grey eyes out of my head.

* * *

Wednesday

I woke up wrapped in Ron’s arms, feeling lighter than I had in days. We giggled about Crooks’ anger at being locked out of the bedroom last night, and I turned down Ron’s extremely unappealing offer of shower sex before work; my hair would be an even bigger disaster if I added moisture to the mix.

He had forgotten to feed Crookshanks, so I had to double back to the flat the moment we’d arrived in the atrium. Crooks mewled in relief when he saw me return and stood at my feet until his breakfast was prepared. I scratched his ears and once again left for the ministry, surprised not to find Ron alone. Seeing Ronald converse with Cormac made my skin crawl, even more so when he tried to defend him against my obvious disdain. Apparently the two had become friends, although who knows how that could have happened, as both Harry and I loathe him.

Ron offered to walk me to my office to delay starting his own workday, and pretended to listen while I ran through my upcoming schedule. I started rambling about legal precedent that I knew bored him to tears to see if he was paying any attention to me, his promise from last night echoing in my head; he nodded sporadically, eyes locked on my chest.

I was interrupted by a small knock before Draco let himself in, carrying two takeaway cups and a pastry bag. I beamed at him, trying not to focus on his fingers wrapped around the steaming cups. He needed advice; he’d adopted a kitten and, having no idea how to look after one (familiar as he was with Crookshanks after sharing a dorm with him), came to me. He threw a barb at Ron automatically, their mutual dislike and casually thrown insults having become a habit over the years.

Ron took the bait, face turning an alarming shade of red, and I soothed him by promising to get lunch with him later. As always, the promise of food calmed him down, and he dragged my mouth to his, immediately shoving his tongue past my lips. He pulled away abruptly, stomping past Draco before slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The clearing of a throat interrupted my annotations of the briefing I had been sent earlier, and I squeaked, startled. Ron was looming over my desk, fury radiating off him. When I asked if he was ready to go to lunch, he let loose a tirade, the likes of which I hadn’t been on the receiving end of since we were in school. He accused me of abandoning him for Draco, the insinuation of an affair hanging heavily in the air. I recoiled from him in horror; after everything I had sacrificed for his well-being, after handling him with kid gloves for years to ensure that he adapted to life after the war, he was accusing me of being unfaithful. His voice grew louder as he used his size to his advantage, leaving me cowering behind my desk.

For the second time in as many days, I burst into tears over Ron Weasley. He stormed out, eerily reminiscent of this morning, leaving me to sob into my hands. I had never been scared of Ron, and I certainly wasn’t afraid that he would resort to physical violence with me, but I had never felt so uncertain about the future of our relationship. Draco would be a constant presence in our lives for as long as we all worked in the same department; arguments like this one were doomed to become commonplace.

Draco, observant as he was, came to offer his advice, cafeteria sandwiches in hand. As he reassured me that Ron loved me, valued me, and was only upset because I wasn’t taking care of myself, I almost laughed aloud. Ron was upset that he may have looked foolish in the cafeteria, and jealously suspected that I might prefer Draco’s company to his own. I ignored the voice in my head that agreed. As Draco stood to leave, I was tempted to ask his opinion of my relationship; whether continuing in this vein was worth it. I didn’t want to risk hearing the truth; I was comfortable with my life and didn’t want to hear sound reasoning to convince me that I needed more than comfort. Comfort was fine.

Ron returned, nearly barrelling Draco over as he left. I heeded Draco’s advice; Ronald and I hadn’t gone out for a proper date in recent memory. We usually floo-ed to Grimmauld, or met Harry and Ginny at a pub, never just the two of us. Surely, I could remember why I wanted to be with him, I was the Brightest Witch of the Age. I suggested my favourite bistro, something intimate and quiet, where we could talk for hours over delicious food. Naturally, Ron suggested something trendy, where we could be photographed, and talk for hours over a twelve-dish tasting menu. At least we would be talking.

* * *

Thursday

Sunlight was streaming through the blinds when my wand alarm woke us; evidently, we’d forgotten to close them last night. I burrowed into Ron’s neck, attempting to block out the world, thanking him for last night. Dinner had been excellent, although sitting in full view of the entire restaurant had made me feel like I was onstage, and I therefore avoided any topic of conversation that could be deemed meaningful. Still, I had enjoyed myself, indulging in more wine than I usually would on a worknight, and my lowered inhibitions meant that I was more vocal with my demands during sex than usual. I had even come once, although I replaced Ronald’s fingers on my clit with my own when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to get me there.

Enjoyment aside, it didn’t change the fact that I could no longer see a future with Ron as my romantic partner. The boy that I had fallen in love with was no longer there, having been replaced by an entitled man who would rather show me off than show me that he loves me. Ron certainly hadn’t become that man overnight nor had he done so intentionally, but it was no longer something that I could tolerate or excuse. Everyone around us had matured except for him, and I could not allow myself to be held back anymore. The pile of spiders that Crookshanks had left on the mantle made me wonder if I was simply the last person to realise it.

* * *

A seething Harry met us at the lift, and after greeting me, led Ron to his office. Presumably, Ron had taken Harry’s promotion to mean that he could do less work with no consequences due to their friendship. I closed and locked my office door behind me, desperate to keep any and all distractions. I needed to determine the best time to end things; there was to be no more sex, obviously, and it would have to be done in the flat. Harry and Ginny were my biggest concern; a not insignificant part of me worried that they would choose Ron, abandoning me in favour of supporting him. It was ungracious and ridiculous; Harry was my brother in all but blood, and Ginny had been my closest confidant since my fifth year.

* * *

Ron hadn’t stopped by my office all day; whatever Harry had said to him must had had some impact. As such, I was able to avoid any awkward interactions. He had been my best friend before he had been my fiancé, and I didn’t want to hurt him any more than I had to. I hoped, that in time, we could still be in each other’s lives; I was willing to be patient and give him as much space as he might need.

I walked through the bullpen to his desk, where he was huddled over a sheet of parchment.

“Ready to go, Ron?”

He looked up, startled. “Hey, babe, haven’t seen you all day. I’ll be awhile longer, you go ahead. I was thinking about going to Mum’s for dinner, what do you reckon?”

Having a meal with the Weasleys in the Burrow whilst planning to break up with Ron felt dirty; cruel to the family that had adopted me as one of their own. “I’m pretty beat. I don’t think I’m up for a family dinner tonight. I’ll sort myself out, don’t worry,” I reassured him.

He nodded in understanding before tilting his chin up for a kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair instead, before making my way to the lift.

When he returned home hours later, I was fast asleep, drained from three orgasms, brought to climax by images of platinum blonde hair between my thighs.

* * *

Friday

As it was the last day before a Bank Holiday weekend, last minute files had appeared on my desk overnight, and all required immediate attention. Ron had sullenly followed Harry to his office once again, and presumably would be out of my hair all day once again. I found myself hoping that Draco would stop by; I hadn’t seen much of him the day before, and it left me bereft, for some strange reason.

Feeling stir crazy, I walked to the cafeteria for lunch, opting for a bowl of chicken and corn soup with a crusty bread roll. When I returned to my floor, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and Harry’s office was closed and warded. Ronald was still at his desk, looking up as I walked past, eyeing my soup longingly. I gave him a small smile, before returning to my office.

Two hours later, a ghostly stag burst into my office, opening its mouth to speak in Harry’s voice. “Malfoy is going on patrol for the first time tomorrow, Robards just confirmed it. Sending him to you to review the regulations about fieldwork when we’ve finished briefing him.” As soon as it had relayed its message, the stag vanished.

When he arrived, I greeted him with a huge smile; he looked at me blankly for several long moments, and I could feel it falling from my face. He quickly grinned so broadly that I was temporarily dazed. He sat in the chair across from me, as I explained what we were reviewing, reassuring him that it was all information he already knew. The opportunity to work in the field had visibly eased weight from his shoulders; he winked at me, and I was struck across the face by the full force of the Malfoy Charm. His beauty took my breath away, and I couldn’t raise my eyes from his full lips, and perfectly straight, white teeth. I found myself licking my own lips, wishing they were his. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, almost as though he was flirting with me. I wondered if this was what he was like with the women that he bedded; he was irresistible, and it was overwhelming. He returned his signed document to me, and our fingers brushed; I barely suppressed a shiver as he stood to leave.

“Congratulations, Draco. You’ve worked hard for this; I’m proud of you” I said, shaking myself out of my sexual haze.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said with a smile before casually walking out of my office.

The world stopped turning for a moment with his use of my first name, before quickly spinning of its axis. My heart was racing, and I was flushed. With one word he had brought my world crashing down, only to rebuild it. I tried to slow my breathing, reminding myself that Draco was my friend, and had no idea what impact hearing my name in his drawl would have on me.

As I left for the day, heart still stuttering, there was only one thing on my mind: I needed to end things with Ron. I would never, ever cheat-I found infidelity abhorrent- but my thoughts about Draco had turned increasingly carnal, and Ronald deserved better than his fiancée fantasising about his lifelong enemy.

I replayed the memory of my name on Draco’s lips later that night, moaning his when I came.