Chapter 1
The Burrow was beautiful. Lights decorated the yard, music surrounded them, firewhiskey and butterbeer flowing through everyone’s veins. The atmosphere was lively, everyone having a grand time. Hermione though, she needed out. She knew what tonight was for, she knew what Ron was planning, knew what was coming. The anxiety of it all overwhelmed her. He had finally finished training and gotten on with the Aurors. She had completed her eighth year and was finally working with the Ministry. The war was behind them. It was the logical next step, she knew that. She also knew that he wanted children, and soon. But she didn’t want that, at least not with him and not anytime soon. Hermione didn’t know when she had stopped wanting it – that had always been their plan. Acquire stable jobs, get married, have children. But…the more she thought about it, that was always his plan. Always his final goal. But what about her plans? She wanted to become Minister one day, to really truly be able to make a difference in the magical world, preferably sooner rather than later. How could she manage that with a clan full of red headed babes at home? She knew he hadn’t even stopped to consider that, with Molly giving up everything she had for her children. It was what he expected, what he thought Hermione would eventually do as well. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children, she truly did. She just wanted other things first. She knew she had to tell him.
She loved Ron with everything she had, but she also knew that realistically she had clung to him during the war, and him to her, and they never released each other. They had never found who they truly were without each other, without fighting against evil. They had always been Hermione and Ron, Ron and Hermione. It was supposed to always be them. At least that’s what she had thought. Now she wasn’t so sure. They were stagnant, stuck in the motions. Their entire relationship was repetition of the same few movements. Work, home, dinner on the couch with the muggle television until bed and repeat. Take out every Thursday. Sex on Wednesdays. Dinner with Harry and Ginny every two Mondays. Hermione craved more, she needed more. She couldn’t get away, she tried and tried, yet here she was dancing with Ron and thinking about all of the things she would rather be doing, the work she needed to complete and the adventures she wanted to take. But he was Ron, and she was Hermione. Two thirds of the Golden Trio. They were meant to be. They could figure it out, make it work, couldn’t they? They always had before. She should want this life with him. She knew that. She just craved…more.
“Hermione…” Ron began. This was it. Everyone around them slowed, watching, waiting. She could feel the excitement coming off of them in tsunami waves. They knew what was coming, or at least they thought they did.
“You are the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman I have ever met. Your wit and drive are unmatched. I have loved you for as long as I can remember.” Hermione could feel the anxiety bubbling, could feel her throat closing. She needed to stop him before he got too far, before he asked. But she was scared. She couldn’t get her mouth to form the words. What if it was just nerves and an overactive mind making her think these things? But as he began to lean down on his knee, she knew. She knew with complete and utter certainty that she could not marry him.
“I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but you. Hermione, will you do me the honor–”
“Ron, stop. You can’t do this. I…I can’t do this,” she finally spoke, her voice falling to a whisper. Dropping his hand and backing away, everything went quiet. The music, the people, it all stopped. Hermione thought she faintly recognized Molly gasping, clutching Arthur’s hand, but she couldn’t be sure. All she could focus on was getting through this moment and then getting away from it all.
“I don’t understand. ‘Mione, what are you talking about?” His voice was shaky, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to have to do this. Didn’t want to have to break his heart.
“Please, Ron. Don’t make me spell it out for you. Please don’t make this any harder than it must be.” She needed out, needed to escape. She looked around, trying to find the quickest and easiest way out.
“No, I deserve to know, Hermione. Why? Do you not love me anymore? Did I do something wrong? Did you?” He was begging at this point, a little anger seeping into his words, but she didn’t know what to tell him. How do you explain to someone that you just know that it’s wrong? With no real reasoning? All her years being the brightest witch of their age, and she couldn’t think of one simple explanation for him other than the second he began his speech, a light bulb went off and she knew it was wrong.
“No Ron, you know I love you. I always have and I always will. This just isn’t right. We just aren’t right.” She could hear her voice rising in pitch, and could feel her palms beginning to sweat. She just needed him to let her leave, to let this be done and over with. She could tell she was starting to truly panic. She knew what his family would say. “It was the champagne,” and “she just never was herself again after the war. It’s a shame.” She had heard it all before. They would tell him she would come around, she was just nervous or scared. They were wrong.
“Do you have any actual reasoning? Anything that will help me understand why you’re doing this? Please, ‘Mione. Please.” She could hear the pleading in his voice and she knew then. She knew that she had shattered his heart and she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t handle knowing it was her fault.
“No… Ron, I have to leave. I can’t… I can’t stay here. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t think about anything except getting away from the Burrow. From Ron’s devastated eyes, as he stood in the middle of the room where he had planned to make a grand speech professing all of the reasons he loved her, but was now left speechless and alone. From his random aunts speaking in hushed whispers about how she would have made such a lovely bride, and what a shame she wouldn’t be. From Ginny chugging straight from the bottle, clearly stressed about her best friend and about her brother, trying to pick who to go to first. From Harry’s confused questioning as she ran by. She could deal with all of that later, she reasoned with herself. They would understand, they had to. They were her best friends, but they were also his.
She had let everyone down and she knew that, but she found she didn’t care. She was tired of being the “Golden Girl,” tired of exhausting herself to please everyone else. She just wanted to be Hermione, but first she had to figure out who that was. She could only hope they would all come around, eventually, maybe.
She apparated to the first apparition point she could think of, which just so happened to be right outside a dingy street in muggle London. The last time she had been here was when they were on the run. She let her feet lead her, not thinking about where she was going, and found herself in a rundown bar. Not her usual type of spot, but there were few people here, a couple muggles at the back tables. It was quiet. No one would think to look for her here. It was the perfect place to sit and think and figure out how to get herself out of this mess she had created.
She didn’t regret telling him no, she knew that was the right thing to do. But maybe…maybe she shouldn’t have done it that way. Maybe she should have told him before, she knew it was coming, she could have stopped it. Or she could have said yes, suffered through the years of marriage with him. She loved him, he would always be her best friend. She could have made it work. Maybe, possibly. She knew Ron would find someone else, someone more suited to him. Someone who would patch up all of the rips she had created. He would pull out his mother’s ring, and she would be elated. She would help him forget everything Hermione had caused. At least she hoped that would happen. He deserved it, he deserved great things. Things she knew she couldn’t give him.
Lost in thought and more than a few drinks in, she hardly realized when someone sat down next to her at the bar. The past few hours had been such a blur that she didn’t pay attention to them while they ordered a whiskey clean. Staring absently into her own drink, playing back the scene from the party. She didn’t think anything of it, until she heard him speak to her.
“Granger. Fancy seeing you in a place like this.”