“I don’t understand.”
Hermione looked at Ron as they sat in front of each other in a cafe in Muggle Paris. He had learned how to dress in the Muggle public that he was able to blend in now but his tall, burly self with his bright red hair and piercing blue eyes were quite noticeable in the Parisian setting. He was not even supposed to be here, and yet, here they are. Having another replay of one of their many talks.
“I know you don’t.” Hermione replied, taking a small sip from her cafe creme and staining the white coffee cup with her bright red lipstick.
She had received an owl the night before. She immediately recognized the owl as Pigwidgeon so she immediately knew whom the letter was from. She felt no pain as she opened the letter. There was no nervous anxiety, no sped up heart beats, no hitched breathing. Not anymore, at least. The familiar feeling of dark loneliness filled with hopeless anticipation didn’t creep in anymore either.
“I love you.” He said, but only the sound of a car passing made a reply.
The hands that used to be her solace began to reach towards her from across the table. Hermione lets him hold her again and memories begin to flood back into her heart, like a dam that has been broken. However, surprisingly, it only felt like she had been touched by a fleeting butterfly. It didn’t feel like the avalanche she was expecting.
She looks at him, straight into the brilliant sapphire eyes that used to be her summer sky. Then, with her eyes, she began tracing the freckles on his face that she used to chart like a sailor, watching the stars for direction. Finally, her gaze landed on the lips that used to feel like a drink of cool water after a long day.
“Mione -”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
He let go of her hands and retreated. Hermione remembers all the times she used to chase after his warmth and she is reminded of all the nights she spent alone.
Ron was supposed to keep her grounded. He was the pragmatic realist between the two of them, keeping her from flying too close to the sun. She used to look at him with stars in her eyes and a heart full of love. She used to cling to him at night when she would wake up thinking she was still on the marble floors of Malfoy Manor, bleeding to death. He was the lifeline she relied on to keep herself from jumping off the precipice.
Hermione loved him with everything she could give. On quiet nights, she would find herself awake at night watching his chest rise with each breath, making sure he was still alive. Despite the busy schedules she had to balance at the Ministry, she made sure to find the time to be home to make dinner. She used to bring her work home, cluttering the dining table with her files because he needed the office to run his family’s booming business.
She marvelled at his determination to build Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with his brother. He asked her all about muggle marketing and business strategies and she went out of her way to get him any resource he might need. In her few days off, she enjoyed helping with the store’s bookkeeping and accounting, despite remarks from Harry and Ginny that she needed to rest too. Of course, she didn’t listen. Ron needed her and she promised to be there whenever he needed her.
“I’m glad you came.”
He was using that voice and he looked at her with those eyes again. The same voice and the same look that made her want to give everything up just to be with him. It used to make her lose all the strength in her knees.
“You said you wanted closure.” Hermione answered. “It’s already been months since. A year, almost.”
“I know.”
“So, why now?”
He doesn’t answer her.
She spent many sleepless nights thinking it was all in head, repeating the same things over and over again until she’d fall asleep with frustrated tears staining her face. Their bed would have been empty except for herself, curled up on one side, tightly embracing herself to find some semblance of warmth.
It’s a business meeting. Sometimes, we need to give in to what our business partner likes.
Even if it were to join them at a muggle strip bar without her knowledge.
She did work too much. Of course he would miss her at home.
Even though he was barely home when she’s off from work.
She loved him very much. Why should she be afraid of marriage?
Because she was not ready to be the full-time mom he wanted her to be.
Of course he’s willing to give her anything. He’s done it before, hasn't he?
But he also left her alone while the world fell apart around them.
Maybe it's her insecurities that are sabotaging them.
Yet he was the one intimidated by her position as a Wizengamot member.
She could be neglecting her looks, her weight, her hair.
However, he was the one to get mad when someone compliments her.
Maybe she’s just not seeing his efforts. Maybe it’s because she’s selfish.
Despite the harrowing emptiness growing inside her as she continues to give more.
In all those nights, she would make promises in the darkness. She would give him all the best she had. She would maintain her empathy for him. She vowed to be his greatest ally, a chess piece who would take him to the winning checkmate, his bravest soldier fighting in the front lines for him. She would add her promises to the growing mantra she used to lull herself to sleep, attempting to convince herself that it was her that was lacking.
“Why now, Ron?” She asked again, this time firmer.
“We were together for six years, Hermione.” He answered. “I thought you just wanted time for yourself. I didn’t realise you were already disregarding everything we’ve built.”
Hermione wanted to scoff. “I used to ask myself that question. I used to ask myself, should I throw out everything we’ve built or keep it? Everyday, I kept asking myself that question again and again until I made myself sick. Until I got tired.”
“So you got tired of me? Is that it?” His voice was dangerously close to an accusatory tone.
Hermione felt nothing anymore, though. She shook her head and watched as he began to lose the composure he initially tried to put on. He’s always had an issue with his temper. She’s brought it up so many times already but it seems he still hasn’t changed at all.
“No, Ron. I didn’t get tired of you.” She replied. “In the beginning, I thought we just needed time to adjust, that we were simply too young and that eventually, we would learn to compromise.” A sigh escaped from her mouth. She didn’t want to do this again. Not anymore.
“Then why did you give up?”
She didn’t. Hermione knew she didn’t give up. She just started matching Ron’s energy. She simply stopped chasing him around and initiating everything. She didn’t stop giving. She simply ran out of anything to give. Another sigh escaped her lips.
“It’s because of him, isn’t it?” Ron continued. “Is it his money? His influence? What does he have that I don’t?”
Ah, there it is. Hermione was already expecting this. “Don’t bring Draco into this.”
“Why not? Didn’t we start to fall apart when he came along?” Ron was raising his voice now. He wasn’t hiding his accusations anymore. “With all those little gifts he sent you, those fancy wines he’d bring when he’d ‘visit’ you in your office, that sponsorship and charity he created… I didn’t realise you were this shallow.”
“Please don’t raise your voice at me.” Hermione said calmly, despite his obvious attempts to rouse an angrier reaction from her. “As you can see, we’re in the middle of breakfast in Muggle Paris.”
“Then answer me, Hermione.” He asked again. “You chose him instead of me.”
Hermione steeled herself against Ron for what she decided would be the last time. She can feel years of anger, sorrow, and self-loathing building up to the surface of her psyche. She swore to herself that she would no longer shed tears when it came to her romantic relationship with him. She has given too much already. She cannot give anymore.
“Did you choose me, Ron?” She simply asked, her head turned to the street. Her voice was sad, sentimental, and bitter.
“What do you mean? Of course I chose you. It’s only ever been you. I love you.”
Hermione shook her head. “Is it me you chose or is it the idea of me? Your girl Friday, the one who always had your back no matter what, the girl who’d wait for you to come back no matter what… Is that all I was to you?
I wanted to see you succeed in everything you did. I gave you all the best I had. I made sure to be there when you needed me and felt guilty anytime I would do something for myself. I wanted us to succeed together. I had our children’s names planned out. I even had our retirement planned out too. I wanted to spend every waking moment with you.
But with every waking moment I did spend with you, it felt like you weren’t even looking at me. You would sleep next to me in bed and it still felt like you were miles away from me. You would hold me in your arms but the warmth you used to have wasn’t there anymore. I begged you to listen to me, to talk about what was happening, but you didn’t seem to hear me. I wanted to share with you all my woes, my pain, my happiness, my insecurities, my triumphs. But when I would reach out, it always felt like you would dismiss my words and shift the conversation back to you.”
Ron seemed to have relaxed his stiff stance and began reaching for her hands again. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
“I did.” Hermione replied, pulling her hands away. “I gave so many signs, Ron. Everytime I brought this up before, we would erupt into a mess of shouts and tears, and I’m tired. It's exhausting to love someone who can’t see you.”
“If you’re so tired of me, then why did you agree to meet me?” He was struggling to maintain his composure. Redness increased on his face and Hermione could hear him breathing heavier.
“Because I hated the way we ended.” She said, keeping her own cool. She came here to find the ending for that chapter in her life. To finally be able to tie up loose ends and get the permission she needed to finally move on. “I agreed to meet you because I truly loved you and it was a great love while it lasted. It deserves to be closed properly for us to truly move on.”
Hermione watched his face, his eyes, as if she were looking for something - anything. But, nothing. She used to look at his face and feel like she was the centre of the universe. She used to stare into those baby blue eyes and felt like he looked at her mind, body, and soul. But the glimmer behind his eyes that used to see every crevice of her was no longer there. He was looking at her, but he could not see her.
Then she notices his eyes shift to something behind her and the familiar sound of footsteps made from dragon-leather shoes made it to her ears. She checks her watch and sees that it’s already nearing 11. She and Ron had run out of time. Ron had run out of time again .
“What is he doing here?” She hears Ron say angrily as she feels Draco’s presence behind her.
“We have luncheon with the French Minister of Magic, Weasley.” The blond replied, his voice sounding like a mix between being snarky and proud. “Hermione is here as Deputy for the British Ministry of Magic, in case you’ve forgotten. She’s here for work, not pleasure.”
Hermione looked at Ron sheepishly, expectantly. She looked at his face with a hope that he’ll be proud of her. That she had come a long way. That her hard work has finally paid out. She had finally reached that point in her life where she can comfortably say that she had made it. Instead she sees disgust.
“That’s why you chose him, didn’t you?” Ron said, his voice raising. People were starting to look at them, curious from the raised voices. Hermione keeps herself seated as she mutters a wandless notice-me-not spell around the three of them.
“You chose him so you’ll get the connections for your ambitions.” He laughed vindictively, like he had trumped them in a game of cat and mouse. “You don’t really love him.”
But Draco only chuckled back in response. “I think Hermione should be the one to decide whom she loves and whom she doesn’t.” He walked closer to Ron, taking the empty seat between him and Hermione. “See, Weasley, if you truly knew what you had then… you would know that this witch in front of you is too stubborn to accept help from others. You would have known the lengths she would go for the people she loves and the dreams she has.”
“You have no right to talk about her as if you know her.” Ron countered. “I was there when you and your people mutilated her, belittled her, and insulted her very existence. I loved her for her stubbornness, and her dreams, and for how much she cared. Which is probably what drew you to her, right? Because you wanted in on her ambitions. You wanted a free ride to redemption.”
Hermione looked away. Draco never even attempted to offer up his connections or his obscene wealth for her dreams. He was simply there. He was there to give her a cup of tea in the middle of the night as she worked on her papers. He was there to make sure she takes all her meals. He was there to talk about how bad her day was. He never disregarded her suggestions. He was there when she needed him. He never forced his affections on her until she was ready.
They would go into long nights talking about anything and everything. From Muggle Science to Magical Philosophy, to what cuisine she should learn to cook next, to the expensive haircut Draco might have had that day, to the onion bagel that helped Hermione get through the day… To the kneazle kitten born in the Malfoy Stables, to the quidditch line ups of the season, to the legislature she was planning to propose, to the next investment he was planning to make, to how divine she looked as she made speeches amongst world leaders… the two of them can go on and on without getting tired.
He had moments when he simply knew what she needed without her asking. He would know, like clockwork, when her monthlies would arrive and he would always have a basket of pain-killer potions, chocolate, soup, and comfortable clothing ready for her. He respected her efforts for creature rights - even starting a labour union charity for house elves before they even got involved.
But most of all, he can see her.
He can see the efforts she placed in everything she does. He respects her as an equal - not just some romantic partner. He sees her as someone whom he could grow old and succeed with. He can see her .
“How can you say that you love someone, you can’t tell is dying?” Hermione hears Draco ask.
“She wasn’t.” Ron answered. “We were fine before you came along.”
“Are you sure about that, Ronald?” Hermione said, her voice dangerously low.
“Of course I-”
“No. Ron.” Hermione cut him off. “Are you actually sure that we were fine?”
He doesn’t answer. She looked at her watch again. They needed to get going. Hermione stands up, beginning to leave before her wrist gets grabbed.
“Hermione…”
“I can’t do this anymore, Ron.” Hermione says, taking her wrist away from his loosened grip. She looked at the same blue eyes that once held her universe. “You’ve lost me.”
She feels Draco grab her coat as he helped her up from her seat. Ron will always have a place in her heart as the one that got away. He would always be her first great love. But that time has ended now and she would be very happy to have him as her friend once more. Until then, she would try to find happiness in her own way.
“I don’t understand.” Ron began to retreat.
Hermione was about to answer but Draco answered for her. “I know you don’t, Weasley.”