The Way We Were

The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Otherwise, Tom would have killed Ginny in Book 2, and a character named Albus Severus (really, what kind of illegal substance JKR was taking when she wrote this?) wouldn’t even exist.

AN: Okay, so, I started a new fic (post DH). I didn’t like the book- and I’m not talking about the final pairings but the book itself. I hoped an amazing book- not this. Of course it isn’t horrible, but I’ve read better fanfictions, and there were so plot holes and Hermione looking like a squealing fangirl...

Oh well, but what is done is done. So, I started this new fic. It's Harry/Hermione (of course!). Adult. And takes place <i>after</i> the Crap!Epilogue. Yes, Albus Severus, Hugo and Co. are here. Ah, this won’t be an affair!fic and it IS a HHr. I didn’t like the Epilogue, but it’s canon. We like it or not.

I hope you like it.

Thank you, pinktribechick for the beta and LadyStarlight for the beta and wonderful ideas!

BTW, my other fics will be updated...soon.

Harry/Hermione. Post Epilogue

The Way We Were

Memories
Like the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me - would we? could we?

Memories
May be beautiful and yet
Whats too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget

So it is the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were

So it is the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were

(Barbra Straisand, ‘The Way We Were’)

Chapter 01/Prologue: Miss Sad Eyes

London, England

December 15, 2018

“An espresso, please,” thirty-eight year-old Harry James Potter asked the Muggle attendant, as he sat down at the balcony. Taking a tired breath, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was feeling tired, exhausted, to tell the truth.

Ginny was often telling him to slow down his rhythm of work, complaining that he was working too much; too hard. “I want to enjoy a little more of my hero,” she had said. “After all, I’m what? The first lady of the Wizarding World, right?” And she could always laugh after saying that. “I got the hero.”

Harry shook his head briefly, putting the glasses back.

“Here it is, sir,” the attendant said, placing Harry’s espresso on the counter.

“Thank you,” the wizard replied, and the attendant gave him a curt nod before turning his attention to another client.

The dark haired wizard seized the cup and gingerly brought it to his mouth, taking a sip of its contents. Dean Thomas was right when he said that this was the best espresso in the whole of London. Sometimes, he missed simple moments like that; to be unknown. To be just an ordinary Muggle, drinking a cup of coffee. Harry loved magic; there was no doubt about that. Magic was part of his life, part of himself. However, now and then, he felt himself like in cage.
Unable to move.

Even after twenty years, there were still so much expectations, so much hope about what would he do, how would he life, who was he going to safe. They just couldn’t understand that Harry Potter couldn’t safe them all. He couldn’t solve all problems, all the injustices.

He was just human.

Harry heaved a sigh, taking another sip of his drink. ‘I shouldn’t complain,’ he chastised himself.

He had a life. He had a good life. He had three amazing kids; three young human beings that he would do anything - anything at all - for them. Nothing in the world was more important than his children. Not even his wife.

Ginny. Sixteen years of marriage. Sixteen years and still, there were times when he could find himself wondering if she knew him after all. Harry loved her. She was his wife, the mother of his children. They did have a good life. It was just that -

He just wished that after so many years, Ginny could see him as just – only - a man.

“Look, Chloe, Miss Sad Eyes has just arrived.” The attendant’s soft voice broke Harry’s reverie. The man was talking to a waitress, who was standing by Harry’s side, resting a tray on the counter.

“Missus, Nathan, missus. She has a ring,” the light-brown haired girl responded, shaking her head. “Two waters for table four.”

“You know what I mean,” he said as he took two bottles of the Evian from fridge behind him. “It’s just an expression.” He put the two bottles on the tray. “Glasses?”

“No,” the waitress said. “I know, I was just teasing you.”

The man nodded absently, his gaze fixed at some point behind Harry’s. “Beautiful, yet such sad brown eyes,” Nathan said quietly, almost to himself.

The young woman named Chloe shook her head with a smile, before taking back the tray and walking back to the tables.

Nathan heaved a sigh, lowering his stare. “I wonder why she looks so sad,” he commented, looking at Harry.

Harry gave him a helpless shrug, not really knowing what to say. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t in mood to start chatting with a stranger.

“She comes here almost everyday,” the man continued, “always looking so sad . . .”

Unable to control his curiosity, Harry turned his head to see the person the man was talking about. “H-Hermione?!” he gasped as his curious gaze found his best friend’s wife. Harry adjusted his glasses, as if was making sure it was really her. It was. There was no doubt about that.

Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley was sitting at one of the tables. She was reading something (perhaps a book, he couldn’t be sure) and seemed oblivious to the fact that her husband’s best friend was there, staring at her.

And Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. At first sight, there was nothing different about her. She looked like the same Hermione Weasley he had seen in the Ministry in that same morning. She didn’t seem any different from the Hermione who’d had dinner with him and the rest of the Weasleys at the Burrow just a week ago.

However, she was different; she looked different. She looked overwhelmed.

Sad.

Her shoulders were curved, in a defeated position. When the waitress brought her coffee, Hermione looked up from her book, thanking her with a small smile.

Even with the distance, Harry saw it. Her poignant gaze.

He wondered if something had happened; and his chest tightened at the thought. Maybe some problem at the Ministry? Ron? Their kids?

No, Ron would have mentioned if something was wrong. They were best friends.

Best friends.

Hermione Granger used to be his best friend too; the voice of his conscience when he was younger. That girl - no, woman - had given up so much for him. Maybe more than anyone else.

When exactly did she turn into only the wife of his best friend? At which point of their lives everything had changed?

Harry closed his eyes, breathing heavily; a wave of emptiness invading his system.

He knew those answers.

Harry turned back to the counter, taking some Muggle money from his pocket. He placed it on the counter. “For the espresso. Keep the change,” he said before standing up.

With fast steps, he walked towards Hermione’s table.

"Hermione?” he said quietly.

Hearing her name, Hermione’s head snapped in surprise, her eyes leaving the book on the table. She looked up and her gaze immediately met his green stare.

And then, looking into her brown eyes, Harry realized something.

It wasn’t just sadness. It was loneliness.

TBC

The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Duh.

First of all, thank you for everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter. Well, about this chapter, you will know a little more about H/G and Hr/R's marriages.

Thank you, Pinktribechick and LadyStarlight, for the beta!

Chapter 02: Perfection

“H-Harry?” Hermione sputtered, looking surprised at him. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Dean told me about this place. I needed to try their famous espresso,” he replied, the stare from his green eyes boring into hers.

He wouldn’t know how much time had passed; maybe it was just a minute, even less than a minute. It was like a flip, a quick blink, and the sorrow on her eyes was gone. Hermione gave him a smile, but Harry knew it was forced.

“Oh, yeah! It’s the best espresso in the city!” she was talking rapidly, like it was a sudden desire to look excited, happy. “They also have a chocolate pie that is to die for, you should try it!”

Harry nodded, taking a seat by her side. Looking at her again, it almost seemed that it was everything fine, normal.

In front of him was the smiling Hermione Granger-Weasley, smiling, talkative; the one he was used to see at every Weasley’s reunion. But now, he couldn’t stop the wonder at, or rather better, the knowledge of – the fact that it was all a lie, an act. Harry knew that those previously sad eyes, the ones that she tried so fiercely to hide, were what she really was.

And he hated himself for not noting them before. “How are you, Hermione?” he blurted out, cutting her off.

Hermione blinked, mildly surprise, but managed to smile. “I’m fine, Harry.”

“How are you, Hermione?” he asked again, his green stare boring into her brown eyes.

“I already told you, Harry,” she replied with an uncertain tone, looking down. “I’m fine.”

Harry smiled sadly, and then took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No, you aren’t.” His voice was like a whisper. “I know you, Hermione.”

Hermione pulled her hand away, looking up at him. “Do you?” she asked dryly.

“I’m your best friend!”

Hermione leaned closer, placing a hand on his cheek. “It has been a while since it’s been truth.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione continued. “In these last years I turned into being only your best friend’s wife.”

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew she was right; for as awfully painful as that was - she was right.

He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, or mine. Or maybe it is our fault.” She pulled her hand away from his face.

“Life happened.”

“A perfect, happy life?”

“I’m happy,” Harry said firmly, but somehow that statement didn’t seem right. Until that very moment he had always considered himself a happy man, a dreams-realized man, but - but now, saying that simple phrase out aloud . . .

Was he only fooling himself? It sounded so ridiculous to think that a realization about life had came to him just like that - in a Muggle café, chatting with Hermione.

Yes, it was ridiculous. He was happy. “I’m happy,” he said it again.

Hermione didn’t say anything; instead, she opened her purse and took out some Muggle money from it. She looked around until her eyes finally found the waitress.

“For the espresso,” she said, giving the young woman the money. The waitress took it and smiled.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she thanked her, and then walked away.

“I’m going,” Hermione said to Harry. “It was good to see you, Harry.” She closed her book and started to leave the table.

“Hermione, wait!”

“What, Harry?”

The dark haired wizard also stood up. “P-Please, let’s talk a little more.”

She shook her head, but didn’t look angry or upset. “Ah, Harry...”

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “I never realized, or maybe I didn’t want to realize- to see it.” He heaved a sigh. “I miss you. I miss my best friend, even if I hadn’t realized until now.” He gave a dry laugh. “This sounds so cliché and even a little artificial.” He looked around, shoving his hands in the air. “Here I am, in a Muggle café, having sudden discoveries about the meaning of life.” He shook his head. “I know life, my life, isn’t perfect, and maybe - maybe I lied about being happy. Maybe I’ve been lying for a long time. I don’t know. I just know, now, that I’ve lost my best friend. I’m so -”

“I once told you were a great wizard,” Hermione interrupted him. “I was right - you were and are a great wizard. A great man, my best friend, but - I simply can’t hug you now and start to exchange confidences . . . say that everything is okay.” She closed her eyes painfully, and when she opened them again, Harry noticed they were tearing up. “I needed you. I needed a friend. I -” She stopped as the tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Seeing her like this brought a strange taste to his gut. He felt suddenly dirty, small. With an uncertain movement, Harry leaned closer willing to take her into his arms, but Hermione’s pushed him away. She just stood there stiffly, tears running down her cheeks.

Harry wished he could say that everything was going to be alright, that everything was fine. But he knew it would be another lie.

~*~*~*~

Harry and Ginny Potter’s Residence

“You are late,” was the first thing he heard as he stepped inside his house. Ginny was standing in the middle of their living room, her hands on her hips. Ginny still was a beautiful woman, even if day after day she was more and more like her mother. Yet, she was different from Molly Weasley, who had given up of being concerned about her physical appearance after her third pregnancy. Ginny was always keeping a close watch about her looks. Her nails would be always done, and her hair constantly shining. She wasn’t afraid that Harry would think badly of her if her body had changed. She knew she had his heart. He would love her even she gained two hundred pounds. He was hers.

However, there were the others - and herself.

There were always the expectations, always the critics’ eyes on them, on her. She was Harry Potter’s wife. She was the mother of Savior of the Wizarding world’s children. She needed to be perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied with a tired smile, kissing her lightly on the forehead. Ginny hated when he did that. Kissing her on the forehead. It seemed so brotherly like.

“Something came up at work.” Harry didn’t know exactly why, but he didn’t feel like telling Ginny about his encounter with Hermione. It wasn’t like it had been a secret meeting with a lover, or something like that - and he knew (or at least, expected) that Ginny wouldn’t have a problem with the fact that he and Hermione had a coffee together. Ginny leaned closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Caught some bad guy, my hero?” she asked.

“No,” he responded, shoving his hands into his coat’s pocket, “but I did take notice of some monsters.”

Ginny stepped back, letting go of her husband. “Monsters?” she questioned, looking puzzled. “What kind of monster?”

The kind that makes my best friend to look so sad . . .

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just realized they exist today . . .”

“Are you alright, love?”

“Yeah, I’m just ti -”

“DADDY!” A small yet potent voice interrupted him. With a smile, Harry turned around, opening his arms.

“Lily,” he greeted his daughter, “come here and give your old dad a huge hug, my princess!” Giggling, the young Lily Potter ran towards her father, who rapidly took her into his arms. Embracing her tightly against his body, Harry could just for a short moment forget about anything - and everything.

“How was your day, princess?” he asked, breaking the embrace but still holding her arms.

“Good, Dad.”

Harry gave her a nod, before letting his green gaze wonder up and down her small figure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to his wife, who was looking at them with a strange expression on her visage. But he decided to dismiss it.

“You know, Gin, I don’t think we should send Lily to Hogwarts next September.”

“Dad!”

“And why not, Mr. Potter?” Lily and Ginny asked at same time.

“It’s that I just noticed how pretty my baby is, and I don’t think I want those Hogwarts’ boys flirting around my princess,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe we should just lock her in a tower, don’t you think?”

“Daddy!” Lily was blushing furiously. Harry laughed.

“Maybe you are right, Harry,” Ginny commented. “After all, while her mother only received a bloody kiss on the forehead, she gained a hug - and a sincere smile.”

Harry frowned at Ginny, the laugh dying on his throat. She looked back at him, her lips pursed in a thin line, but didn’t say anything else. Harry took a deep breath, feeling suddenly uneasy.

“I’ll take a shower, and then we can have dinner, okay?” he said to Lily, but his stare still was on Ginny’s.

And without really waiting for a reply, Harry went to his and Ginny’s bedroom.

~*~*~*~

The dark haired wizard grabbed some clean clothes before coming to bath when the bedroom door suddenly opened and a teary face Ginny Potter rushed towards him.

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry! So sorry!” She wrapped her arms around him. “I didn’t mean to say that! It was uncalled for!”

Harry released himself from Ginny’s grasp, and then looked pointedly at her.

“Yeah, it was uncalled for, but that’s okay.” He wanted to smile, but he knew it would be forced. He lowered his gaze at her lips and wondered when was the last time he did really want to kiss his wife. He simply couldn’t remember. But despite those strange thoughts, Harry did give Ginny a small peck on the lips.

~*~*~*~

Ronald and Hermione Weasley’s Residence

Hermione sighed as she watched her husband and son having dinner. She wanted to tell Ron how her day had been, her new work project . . . but she knew it would be in vain. He wouldn’t be interested. He never was.

“Uh, Ron, I’m working in this new project, you know? I’m very excited ab -”

“Er, Hermione, I know this is probably fantastic, but couldn’t we talk later? Or maybe about something else? I’m kinda tired now.”

She could hardly remember the last time they had really talked.

“Hermione, pass me the potatoes.”

“Please is a good word, Ronald.”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, yeah, can you please pass me the potatoes?”

Hermione passed him the potatoes. “You don’t need to snort, Ron. I just think it’s nice to show your son some sort of politeness.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Hermione! I’m fucking tired. Can you please not nag me, just for once?!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I can’t -” But then she was interrupted.

“No!” Eleven year-old Hugo Granger-Weasley cried, standing up. “Stop it, please! It’s always the same thing! Why do you have to fight all the time?” And with that, Hugo stormed out the room.

“Hugo!” Hermione cried hopelessly.

“You know what?” Ron’s voice brought her attention back to him. “I’m done.” He stood up. “I’ll take a walk. Don’t need to wait up for me,” he said in monotone tone just before disapparating.

Hermione pursed her lips, and looked at the empty seats.

Where did her ‘and they lived happily forever after’ have gone?

TBC

AN: So, that was chapter 02. I hope you enjoyed it.

This chapter was mostly Harry’s POV and some Hermione’s POV- so, we don’t know Ron’s thoughts/feelings, but we will. This won’t be a bash! Ron story.

And, about Harry and Hermione talk- just note that things are different now, and I don’t think that she would suddenly start telling him her marriage problems. ^.^

Ah, and one more thing: My other stories AREN’T abandoned. If I decide to abandon any of my fics- I’ll put them under *abandoned*.

The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

AN: I’ve to confess, I’m a little disappointed with the lack of reviews. No, I’m not complaining because I’m very thankful to those who reviewed, but I can’t help to be a little surprised that I received more feedback on LJ than here.

Maybe the story is a little too serious. I don’t know. Oh well...

But I’ll continue to update here anyway. ^.^

And Thanks to Pinktribechick and LadyStarlight for the beta!

Filler Chapter Ahead! :P

Chapter 03: Equality

Law Department

Muggle and Magical Rights Section

Hermione J. Granger-Weasley’s Office

Hermione put down the parchment with a heavy sigh. She knew it was useless to try staying focus on whatever. She hadn’t planned to break down like that. In all honestly she hadn’t planned to even see Harry. During all those years, she had managed to veil her failures.

A soft knock on the door caused her thoughts to vanish. Hermione looked up as the door opened a little and a face appeared.

It was Harry. “Hallo,” he spoke with a tentative smile, “may I come in?”

Hermione felt herself tensing up, wishing to say no - that she was too busy, but she couldn’t.

“Of course.” She didn’t smile. “Come in.”

Harry gave her curt nod and stepped in the room, closing the door behind him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

There was an awkward silence. Harry shifted on his feet, his hands shoving inside his trousers’ pockets.

“Well - . . .”

“Well - . . .”

Unable to control herself, Hermione snorted. That was just ridiculous. How old were they? Twelve?

“Harry,” Hermione said sternly. “Are you going to say something or . . .?”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized. “I just would like to invite you to have lunch with me.” He paused, and then gave her one those lopsided grins of his. “Please?”

Hermione looked at him and then back at the papers on her desk. She knew she had work to do, but she was also very aware that her mind wouldn’t be on work today. Not to mention, she was feeling almost a compulsion to talk to Harry, to enjoy his company. It had been so long since the last time with only two of them there that she couldn’t exactly remember when it had been. He was once her best friend. Who knew if after so many years, life wasn’t giving their friendship another chance?

“Okay, let’s lunch together, Mr. Potter,” replied Hermione.

Harry grinned, “Great!” And Hermione gave him her first real smile in weeks.

*~*~*

A Restaurant, Muggle London

“What happened to us, Hermione?” Harry finally asked.

Hermione sighed, placing her knife and fork down. “Life, I guess.” She shrugged. “Many things, little things. We grew up, got married, had children . . .” She looked wistful. “We changed.”

“When I saw you yesterday, Hermione,” he spoke in a low but clear voice, “it was like a veil was being opened. I don’t know how to explain. I - It’s just that I saw you there, sitting alone - . . .” Looking so sad. “I realized how much I have been neglecting our friendship.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded briefly, her lips pursing in a thin line. She knew exactly what - or rather, who - had caused a gap in their friendship, but she also was painfully conscious that she also had some fault as well.

“It wasn’t only your fault, Harry,” she said after some seconds of discomfited silence. “I was - . . .” Just being too angry at myself for my failures in life. “I was suddenly too busy, with Ron, the kids, my work . . . and then, time just passed.” And also your dear wife didn’t quite agree that we continued to be close friends, Hermione thought bitterly, but decided to not comment. Ginny wasn’t the only one to blame, and Hermione knew it.

“Harry,” she continued, “I don’t really think is useful to start arguing about what happened or which one is the fault about it. We already know it.” Harry stared at her a little doubtful. “We already know, even if we are too blind to see it.”

Harry gave a little nod and leaned his hand over the table, taking her hand in his. “I just - I just want to say that I’ll be always by your side, Hermione. I know these last years I . . . Anything you ne - . . .”

Hermione laughed quietly, shaking her head, but didn’t pull her hand away. “I simply can’t start to tell you about my problems, Harry. I can’t start to tell you about my deepest fears and failures . . .” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione continued. “I know I said we should stop with any guilt game, but this doesn’t mean that all these years are suddenly forgotten, Harry.” She pulled out her hand, placing it on her lap. “I spent too many years pretending to be happy.”

Harry looked surprised at her words, his eyes darkening in sadness at their meaning. Hermione wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but she simply couldn’t. She felt tired - and old.

Just then, suddenly, in an unexpected movement, Harry stood from his seat, walked over to Hermione, and took her hands. Somewhat unsurely, Hermione also stood up. And without unnecessary words, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. It was like an act of desperation.

At first, Hermione felt her body tense, but then started to relax against his body, her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and sighed. She felt strangely safe.

Neither of them said a word. It wasn’t necessary.

*~*~*

Auror Department

Intelligence and Logistic Section

Ronald B. Weasley’s office.

Ron Weasley looked at the photograph frame on his desk. It was an old photograph of himself and Hermione. It had been taken in the day they had found out she was expecting a child—their first child. They looked so young, so...happy.

“What happened to us, Hermione?” he asked to the smiling Hermione in the picture.

Ron heaved a sigh, closing his eyes painfully. This wasn’t how he had foreseen his future, his life. He remembered of those times, in his youth, when he naively thought that after he and Hermione got finally together everything would be fine. That life wouldn’t be perfect but close enough to it.

However, such happiness and perfection didn’t happen. Of course, there was a time when they were happy. Or at least he liked to think there had been. In the beginning, soon after the Final Battle, they practically knew everything about each other (in a more romantic sense of the phrase), but also, especially, they were helping each other to heal.

Now, looking back, Ron couldn’t help but wonder if they had had, in some way, mixed feelings. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t know exactly when everything started to turn down. A cynical part of him could say it was immediately after the honeymoon, but he knew it wasn’t true.

The first years were good. Yes, they did have their differences and their issues, but both of them were willing to try. And they tried.

And tried.

Ron slouched down in his chair and spun it in slow circles, letting a small chuckle escape from his throat. The truth was, neither one of them, really wanted to change. Not even after the children were born. Ron knew that for the most part it had been his fault. Even after so much time, he still couldn’t totally understand Hermione, comprehend her.

Was everything a mistake?

He stopped the chair and turned his gaze to another photograph. It was one of the Trio. Hermione, Harry, and himself during their fifth year. It had been a difficult year that one, but they were smiling nonetheless.

But now, even his friendship with Harry seemed different. Distant.

He took a deep sigh and stood up from his chair, and walked towards the fake window.

Soon after the war, the two of them (plus Hermione, of course) had made all sorts of plans. They returned to Hogwarts to finish their studies, and after that he and Harry were accepted at the Auror Program (not that anyone would have denied them). Hermione also started in a program in the Law Department.

They were happy. It was the big happy end: he and Hermione, Harry and Ginny.

Yes, professionally speaking everything was fine. Hermione had started to make big and important changes in the Wizarding Law, and he and Harry had totally reorganized the Auror Department. They had separated the Auror Department in two separate, but equally important groups: intelligence (headed by him, Ronald Weasley) and security (headed by Harry).

Yes, they had turned out to be successful professionals. However, not everything was as perfect as they had predicted.

“I miss Quidditch,” he mused, staring at the fake blue sky.

Their friendship wasn’t the same. And for all that Ron had tried to deny it, he knew - maybe not the only reason - but the prime reason for the fall out.

Ginny.

Ron loved his baby sister dearly, but he knew she would never see her husband, Harry, as just Harry - Ron and Hermione’s best mate - but always only as a hero. And she had never - and would never - quite understand their friendship.

She didn’t understand that the three of them needed to be alone a few times, talking, remembering. She simply couldn’t accept it. She wanted to be with them, to know what they did, what tell talked about.

Ron lowered his gaze and saw a piece of paper; gingerly, he bent down and took and tossed it towards the rubbish bin, missing the target.

He laughed without humor. “No wonder I never was a Chaser.”

Ginny was a Chaser.

She was a spoiled little girl. But she got her wish. With time, Harry started to give up onto her pressure and . . .

“Damn!” Ron cried aloud, slamming his fists against the wall. “Why did you have to be so weak, Harry? Why always play the hero to the beautiful princess . . . ?” He closed his eyes painfully, sighing deeply. “How could you let my sister do that to our friendship, Harry? Or maybe you are so blind that you didn’t even notice what happened.” He opened his eyes again and looked back at the Trio’s photograph.

“I need you, Harry. My marriage is falling to pieces, and . . . I need you, my friend. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

He continued to look at the picture in a contemplative silence as if he was waiting for some sort of answer, but it never came.

Ronald Weasley didn’t have lunch that day.

TBC

AN: Finally! I’m not totally satisfied with it, but-Well, in the next chapter it will start a little more of the *action* and plot itself. I didn’t write Ginny’s POV here but she’ll have her chance. I know it seemed almost a Ginny bashing but it won’t be (not entirely, anyway :P).

The Way We Were

‘Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time. ‘

(’Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)’, Green Day.)

A huge thank you to LadyBlueStar/ LadyStarlight for the beta and wonderful suggestions.

Chapter 04: Make-believe

1 Month Later
Sunday, December 16^th, 2018

The Burrow

The dinning room

“Ah, I can’t wait to see the children,” Mrs. Weasley declared to no one in particular as she served Mr. Weasley with some potatoes. Like every Sunday at the Weasley house, the whole family was reunited around the table: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Harry, Ginny, and Lily; Teddy Lupin; Bill, Fleur, and Victorie; Ron, Hermione, and Hugo; and finally, George and his eternal girlfriend Angelina.

“Friday, I’ll be picking up Rose at the Platform, Molly,” Hermione told the Weasley matriarch.

“I already told you to call me mum, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley chided.

“And I told you, Molly, I can only call my own mother ‘mum’.” Hermione had a polite smile on her face.

“This is such nonsense, dear!”

Hermione shifted on her seat, her muscles going slightly tense. She truly liked her mother-in-law, but sometimes the woman was just way too much. Soon after Hermione and Ron got married, Molly Weasley had insisted that Hermione should call her ‘mum’. At first, Hermione was especially flattered by the request, but she politely replied that she could not do that. And she did try to explain her reasons. Hermione already had a mother; a mother, with whom she was having problems since the end of the war.

Soon after the final battle, Hermione had gone to Australia to lift off the Memory Charm from her parents and, by extension, tell them everything what had happened. Their reaction wasn’t how she had expected. If, for one side, her father had been quite understandable (he didn’t have liked what she had done, but he knew it was necessary), the same could not be said about Margaret Granger.

Mrs. Granger saw in Hermione’s action some sort of betrayal. She wished her daughter had trusted her own parents. Hermione’s mother also didn’t seem too keen about Hermione’s relationship with Ronald Weasley. She had nothing against the redhead wizard; however, she didn’t like the way he treated her daughter and, principally, she despised the fact that Hermione seemed sometimes to sell herself short when she was with him. He could be a good friend, but only that.

When Hermione announced the wedding, Margaret Granger’s reply was short and simple: “You’re making a mistake, Hermione Jean.”

‘You’re making a mistake, Hermione Jean.’

Hermione shook her head slightly as her mother’s words came to her mind. How true were they?

“…Aunt Hermione?”

Hermione snapped as she heard Teddy’s voice. She blinked twice, and then turned her head towards the young man, giving him an apologize smile. “Sorry, Teddy? What did you say?”

Teddy grinned lopsidedly. “I was just asking how your new project is going, Aunt.” His eyes sparked mischievously under a veil of false innocence.

Hermione gazed at him and let a slight smirk cracked on the corner of her lips, nodding almost imperceptibly at him.

Thank you, Teddy.

Teddy Lupin had inquired the intelligence and mischievous behavior of his parents. Hermione wasn’t quite sure when he had started to developed that sort of ability to identify when something was wrong or about to get nasty. He had never tried to pry about the internal affairs in the Weasley family, but Hermione had no doubt he knew that not everything was perfection and happiness as it seemed to be. “Slow, Teddy,” Hermione finally answered his question, “but I knew it would be this way.”

“The Wizengamot still is, unfortunately, guided by old fashioned preconceptions and traditions, Hermione,” Mr. Weasley commented in a kind voice, “but, I’m very proud of you are trying to do, my dear.”

Hermione beamed at Mr. Weasley’s words, a wave of pride washing over her in that moment. “Thank you, Arthur, I-”

“What are you talking about?” Fleur Weasley asked curiosity. After more than twenty years living in Britain, the French accent in Fleur’s voice was almost imperceptible. “Are you trying to pass a new law, ‘Ermione?”

“Not exactly,” Hermione replied in a professional mode, trying to ignore the not so subtle snort coming from Ginny’s direction. Her sister-in-law looked bored. “I’m just trying to change an old law.”

“Our Hermione here is about to make a big change in the Wizardry society.”

“I’m curious, Hermione.” Harry smiled, his green eyes shining brightly. One month had been passed since that remarkable meeting in that Muggle Café and their friendship was starting to be rebuilt. It wasn’t like it was in the past, but it could be said it began an improvement.

“I’m trying to change few things in the law about divorce.”

As soon as she spoke those words, the table went quiet.

“Divorce, you said?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a tone Hermione couldn’t exactly figure out what.

“You see, I think is unfair and a tremendously sight of machismo and ignorance that in the Wizard world only the man can ask for a divorce, and if he did the spouse is obligated to agree, without receiving any kind of allowance.”

“My dear, you have to understand that-”

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione cut her in-law fiercely, purposively not calling her by her first name or mum, “but I’ve always believed that everyone should be treated in the same way. We had a war because of it.”

“The war was a completely different matter, dear.” Molly Weasley shook her head in disapproval. “I understand that the Muggle world has a different view about morality, but our world is different. Family and Marriage are very important things.”

Hermione sighed, frustrated. She didn’t want to start an argument, but she simply couldn’t stay quiet and say nothing. “I never said family and marriage aren’t important. I just think that the power of being able to call a divorce shouldn’t be only in the hands of the husband.” She paused, looking briefly at her own husband, who hadn’t said a single word. “I do believe marriages should last forever, but what if the woman is suffering some sort of abuse or her husband is cheating on her-” She shrugged. “Or even if she doesn’t love him anymore. Shouldn’t she also have the right to say she wants to get divorced?”

There was a contemplative silence after. Mrs. Weasley looked at her with a wonder expression, as if she was trying to assimilate Hermione’s words.

“Merlin, Hermione!” Ginny snorted loudly. “After so many years we would think you already know how our world works! You need to stop being so...Muggleborn.”

Hermione’s head snapped at her sister-in-law and her body stiffened, her eyes narrowing in dreadful disbelieve and annoyance. She pursed her lips, urging herself to not stand up, take her son and leave that house. Diverting her gaze towards Harry, she saw that he was staring at his wife with a sad expression. She looked at the others at the table and, while they seemed somewhat taken aback by Ginny’s words no one said a word.

No one, except...Ron.

“You should watch how you speak with Hermione, Ginevra,” he spat at his sister, causing all the stares to turn on him. “I thought it was already proved Hermione is a witch and that doesn’t matter if she is Muggle-born or not.”

Hermione’s eyes watered, her chest squeezed. She couldn’t actually remember when it had been the last Ron had spoken on her behalf.

“And I also have to say,” he continued, “I’m supporting Hermione one hundred per cent.” He reached up out his hands, under the table, and took hers into his, squeezing it gently. “People shouldn’t stay together if their marriages are killing them inside. They should have the chance to, at least, stay friends.”

They stared at each other, a poignant smile on their faces. They were friends—and could remain that way.

***

The rest of the lunch went by eventually without any further conversation.

Ron stood up at the kitchen’s doorway, silently observing his family in the backyard. Everything-and everyone- seemed perfect and happy. He heaved a sigh, shaking his head briefly. Ron would never have thought he would ever feel this way, but he was feeling alone. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head into his hands, shaking it, unconsciously wishing that everything was different. He opened his eyes again, and turned to enter the house.

He knew they were expecting him to meet them in backyard; to see him laugh and play Quidditch with Hugo. Ron loved his son with all his heart. Actually, he would never thought he would be able to love someone so unconditionally like he loved his children. However, every man had his breaking point, and Ron didn’t know for how long he would be able to continue playing ‘happy family’.

Ron turned around on his tracks and walked inside the house. He was just about to head out of the kitchen towards the living room when he heard the unmistakable voices of Harry and Ginny. He didn’t want to disturb them, and was about to turn around. However, something made him act differently.

“I can’t believe she talked like that to my mum!” he heard his sister hissing.

Silently and unnoticed, stopped in the doorway, whirling his head in a position he was able to see Harry and Ginny talking in the room, near the stairs.

They were speaking in hushed tones. Ginny looked irritated, and Harry- helpless but also, annoyed.

“Molly should know by now that Hermione doesn’t want to call her ‘mum’. Why is so difficult to understand it, for god’s sake?!” Harry ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t call Molly ‘mum’ too and it has never been a problem.”

Ginny huffed, and even if he couldn’t see it, Ron was sure she had rolled her eyes.

“It’s completely different, love,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And why it would be different?” Harry’s voice was low and strained, filled with implication.

“Ah, luv, you know.”

“No, I don’t, Ginevra.” Ginny tried to reach his face, but Harry shoved her hand away. “Because if I do know or if I might think that I know what you are implying, I’ll get very angry.”

“Harry-”

“No, Ginevra!” he spat at his wife. “I didn’t say anything at lunch because I’m an idiot who didn’t want to start an argument in front of the kids, but you need to think better next time you decided to make some sort of another nasty comment to or about Hermione.”

“I can’t believe you are fighting with me because of her!” Ginny cried crossly. “She doesn’t need you, Harry Bloody Potter! She already has Ron for this job!” And in an angry movement, Ginny rushed upstairs.

“Ginny!” Harry called, but she didn’t turn back.

“What are you going to do now, Harry?” Ron chose this moment to make himself present. “Are you going to beg for my sister’s good heart and forgiveness?”

Harry’s head snapped at the sound of Ron’s words. He turned around quickly, his green eyes narrowing at his friend. “What is that supposed to mean, Ron?”

Ron gave a dry laugh. “Come on, Harry. We all know you look like a lost puppy when it comes to my sister.” He shook his head dismissively. “It’s your choice, I suppose. You have your own family. Maybe old friends aren’t that important anymore.”

Ron knew he was being too harsh and that those words weren’t exactly true. Harry wasn’t the only to be blame for the fall down of their friendship. Not even Ginny. He had his own set of blame, but at that moment, he was too tired and frustrated to care.

“I don’t know what’s going with you, Ron,” Harry said, sighing. “I agree that we aren’t as close as we used to be, but you have no right to say that my friends aren’t important to me! You know very well I could do anything for you and Hermione!”

“I don’t need you to save me from Dark Wizards, Harry!” Ron cried frustrated. “I need a friend.” His voice was now barely a whisper. “I need my best friend, Harry.”

“Ron-” Harry looked at his friend, unsure of what to say or to do.

“My life is falling apart, Harry.”

***

Upstairs, in her old bedroom, Ginny laid curled up in a ball in her bed, holding herself tightly. Her hands were trembling and tears were rolling down her face. She wished everything was different; that she was different. Ginny hated herself for the words she had said about Hermione, for her disdain towards Hermione’s work and personality. She knew her words weren’t true. She knew that Hermione would do a great good for Wizard Society she indeed managed to modify the divorce law. She understood why the brown-haired witch wasn’t comfortable to call her mother ‘mum’. She hated when people would think less of someone just because their background. Then, why she had acted that way?

Ginny was afraid—afraid of what Hermione represented to Harry’s life. She had never meant to break their friendship. No, she had once viewed that all of them could be very good friends.

However, Harry never saw her as his best friend. Hermione was his best friend.

Ginny Weasley-Potter closed her eyes tightly. She just wanted to continue to live her own fairy tale.

TBC