Oh Merlin, what the hell am I doing? Where am I going? As I walk aimlessly through London, I go through the events of the past 2 hours. I had left the celebration at the Ministry and gone straight to Lavender's. Note to self: never remember something you forgot in the middle of apparating, and especially don't try to change your destination. I realized in the split second that it took to disappear from the apparition point and appear at Lavender's flat, that I had forgotten the soup I was meaning to bring. So, like the idiot I can be at times, I tried to change my destination to my own flat. Wrong move. I'm lucky I didn't splinch myself. I ended up missing my living room by a good 30 feet and ended up landing in my bathtub, hitting my head on the tile wall.
So now I have a splitting headache and a goose egg on the back of my head, but that's not the half of what has unraveled in the past 60 minutes. I finally got myself straightened up after my not-so-graceful landing in the loo, and grabbed the soup for my love. I cast a heating charm on it and apparated to her flat. Well, I tried to apparate to her flat, but where I would usually appear in the foyer, I was standing outside her front door. That was odd.
I raised my wand to cast an unlocking charm, and could feel the wards surrounding the flat. That should have been a warning right there. But no, I didn't think about it. All I knew was that my love was ill and I wanted to make her better. I wanted to hold her, tell her I loved her and propose to the woman of my dreams. Never did I think I was about to walk into a nightmare.
I knocked on the door. Then I knocked again. And again. I'm not sure how long I was standing out there knocking on the door, but every minute that passed, I was becoming more nervous. I was afraid something may have happened to her. What if it wasn't just the wizard's flu like she said? I banged on the door again and called her name.
A few moments later the door opened to reveal a man clad only in a bedsheet. "Bloody hell, it's almost eleven o'clock. Don't you have any respect in letting people sleep?"
I looked up and down the hall to make sure I was at the right flat. I had been drinking tonight, not to mention the huge knot on my head, maybe I was lost. But I found that I was indeed in the right place. But who was this guy? And where was Lavender?
"Who is it love?" All right, question answered. I look around the man and see the love of my life wrapping a dressing gown around her, what I am assuming, naked body. I just stand there, dumbfounded. It took me a moment to even think about what the bloody hell was going on and before I got a chance to utter a word, her violet eyes opened large and she realized exactly who was at the door.
"Oh my God, Ron!"
The man turned around and looked at her accusingly. "Lavender, do you know this man? And why would he be banging on our door at midnight?" At that he looked at me, his eyes trying to threaten me. I was having none of that.
"I'm Ron Weasley. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Lavender's husband." What? Excuse me? I look over at the blonde standing beside him and see that her face is staring down at the ground, her eyes pooled with tears. At that moment I did something that no one that knows Ronald Bilius Weasley would have ever thought he would do. I walked away. I dropped the pot of soup at the feet of the lying bitch and her husband, and I walked away.
As I left the hall, I heard the door slam, a booming voice yelling, and a crying voice pleading. As I passed through the door of her building I punched the wall. A few times, actually. I was heartbroken. I wasn't pissed. I wasn't angry. I was hurt. I couldn't get myself to even build the gumption up to be angry. Why? What would it solve? I deserve it. I should have known. What goes around comes around after all.
I walked around for a bit and ended up at the Leaky Cauldron. I have been here for a while and I just finished my ninth… no, tenth… oh hell, I lost count. Well, let's just say I just slammed yet another firewhiskey tonight. So here I am drowning in sorrows and alcohol. Tom, the barkeep, is eyeing me strangely. I raise my hand to get another drink and one appears on the table in front of me. At least I didn't have to try to walk to the bar to get it, I doubt I would be able to make it five feet.
I know what you're thinking; I don't seem drunk. I'm not stumbling over my words. I am not slurring incomprehens… incomprohensibibble… yeah, you know what I mean. That is one of the things we Weasleys have a tolerance for… alcohol. I have never been drunk… well, I can't say that can I? That night we took Harry out to celebrate the twins, yeah I was a bit out there, wasn't I? Well, most of the time I am a very calm drunk. I tend to get analytic… anal… I analyze things too much when I get drunk. I tend to babble. But I can handle my alcohol.
*
I walked into the Leaky Cauldron and smiled at Tom as he wiped down the bar. The pub was empty, except for the redhead slumped over the table in the corner. I shook my head at my best friend. He always thought he could handle his alcohol. He only thinks that because he can't remember anything from when he drinks. He passes out before he ever gets a chance to make a fool of himself, which I am assuming happened this time.
I gently pull the glass from his hand and he dazedly looks up at me. "Harry? What'd'ya doin `ere?"
I sit down in the chair directly across from Ron. "Tom called me, said you were quite a few sheets to the wind. That you may need some help home. What's going on Ron?"
"Nothing."
Liar. Something must have happened with Lavender tonight. I know he was leaving to check on her after the celebration. What made him come here and get piss drunk? I take the bull by the horns and ask the first thing that comes to my mind. "Did she say no?"
"Hmmppff…" he snorts before he grabs his glass out of my hand and takes a swig of the warm firewhiskey. "Never even ashked." Yeah, Ron's drunk, he slurs a lot when he's been drinking.
"Why not?"
"Hubb… Husba… she's already married." What did he just say? I close my eyes tightly. My mind working at what Ron's drunk mind is thinking. Married? Lavender's not married.
"It essplains a lot y'know… why she never wanted to go out anymore. Why we always sat at my flat watchin' the telly. Why she alwaysh shaid `no' to movin' in wish me. I shoulda seen it Harry. I was shtupid."
I pull the glass from his hand again before he can take another drink. With a wave of my hand it is transferred to the bar so Tom can wash it. Ron needs no more alcohol tonight. He will be in enough pain as it is. I nod at Tom and two cups of coffee appear on the table. I push Ron's in front of him, urging him to drink it.
I sit there for a moment. I'm not sure what to say. I watch Ron sip the hot liquid as I try to wrap my mind about this new information. Lets see. Ron had cheated on Hermione with Lavender for four years before the split. That was two years ago. So for six years the `Hogwarts whore' has strung Ron along, while she cheats on her husband. What am I supposed to say to that? Honestly?
"You're not stupid Ron. She lied to you."
"Jusht like I lied to `Mione. I desherved it. I just can't comprhe… comp… undershtand how I never knew. How did she hide it from me? He opened the door and I thought I was at the wrong flat. Then she peeksh around him. I have never felt sho shtupid, Harry."
I take a long tog of my coffee. Caffeine tends to help clear my mind. "How do you know it's her husband?"
Ron looks up and his bloodshot eyes look at me like that was the dumbest question in the world. "He shaid sho."
Right. He said so. "And what did Lavender say?"
"Noshing. Absolutely farking noshing."
I can just imagine how Ron ranted and raved at this revelation. I look at him and notice his right hand is bruised and swollen. He probably hit the bastard. "When did you hit him? Before or after he said he was her husband?"
"Wha?" Ron looks at me bewildered. "I didn't hit `im." I know for a fact that Ronald Weasley does not take things lying down. I look at his battered hand, he catches my glance and looks down. "Oh bloody hell." He runs his fingers over the swollen knuckles and the looks up at me and shakes his head. "That was the wall. I walked away."
I can't believe that. He must have had more firewhiskey at the celebration than I thought. He can't even remember fighting with Lavender's so-called husband. "Whatever Ron. I know you. Your temper was flaring wasn't it?"
The coffee is starting to work at sobering him up. His eyes are clearer and I can see how defeated he looks. "No, Harry. I walked away. It wouldn't have changed anything. Seeing him just answered more questions that I wanted answers to right now. So I walked away. I hit the wall after I left her building then ended up here." When did Ron grow up? That thought makes me smile at him. He looks around for a second, his eyes taking in the fact that we are the only ones in the pub.
"Hell, how long have I been here?"
I chuckle lightly. "Well, I'm not sure how long you've been here, but its now 3:00 in the morning, if that tells you anything."
He looks at his watch and verifies the time. Like I'm really going to lie to him about the time. He raises his cup and takes another long drink of the coffee before looking at me. "Thanks Harry. I'm sorry Tom called you. I know you had to get up early to go birthday shopping for Artie. Hermione's gonna kill me. Shit. I'm so sorry Harry."
The next thing I know I am staring at the top of my best friend's head as he dropped his face in his hands. I look up at a motion coming from Tom; its time for us to go.
"C'mon mate. Lets take you back to Grimmauld. You can sleep in the guest room tonight. We can talk about this in the morning. I'll make sure Hermione whips up some hangover remedy for you." At that he looks up and smiles.
"She still beats the pants off us in that stuff, huh?"
I can see the pride in his eyes at the thought of how good Hermione is at making potions. I know she has saved my arse from a hangover more times than I can count, not to mention all the ailments she can heal with a quick potion. I look at Ron and assume he is thinking about the same thing. She was his wife for ten years, after all. Of course she did the same things for him that she does for me. That thought makes me feel something odd that I really don't want to think about or try to place at the moment.
I stand up and walk toward the barkeep. I give Tom a few galleons for his trouble and wait for Ron at the door. "Sorry Tom. G'night." Ron says sheepishly.
"No problem. Good night Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter."
I nod at the old man and pull Ron out the door. I stick out my wand hand and wait for the giant purple bus. In seconds it is there and Ron and I are climbing on. "Why didn't we just apparate, Harry?"
I look incredulously at Ron. Like he was really in the state to apparate? I seriously doubt that. Floo would have made his drunkenness worse, and probably caused him to get sick. This is the lesser of all the evils. The ride may be a bit bumpy and wild, but at least I don't have to put a splinched best friend back together, nor do I have to explain any mess left in passing the grates in the Floo.
Ron grins slightly. "Yeah, guess you're right. Splinching doesn't appeal to me right now, and I doubt my stomach would handle the Floo." See, my point exactly.
When the bus stops, I help Ron off and up to the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. I help him up the stairs to the guest room. I'll let him sleep it off tonight, I will get the rest of the story tomorrow.
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