It was as still as death. The air was stale, like one would think it would taste when the world stopped turning. One might think it actually had, considering there was no wind, not even a breeze, and no noise emanating from the streets below. It was an odd feeling for England, nothing going on. But for once, Hermione Granger couldn’t hear the familiar hum of the cars passing underneath her bedroom window.

And that is why Hermione Granger was not in bed at this hour. The stillness felt almost too good to be true, more as if it were a curse falling upon London. It wasn’t normal to only see the glow of street lamps, not being in company of the moving headlights. No sirens calling out for help, flashing brilliant streams of red into the darkness. No crazed gangsters, causing a commotion in the square. It was almost as if London itself had died.

But she knew this not to be true, as she heard her husband’s heavy snoring from their bedroom and her own breath, which were the only things she heard in the darkness. Hermione sat on the balcony, looking out into the silent city. Her hair, which had yet to be taken down, still sat in a pile upon her head and she still needed to change out of her dressing gown. The silence was almost inviting in a way, like a silent plea for her to think.

It had been a blissful first few months, she had to admit. Her marriage was far from perfect, but it never ceased to amaze her how the smallest of problems never seemed to break people apart, but draw them closer. Everything she had learned from these past months was only pushing her toward what everyone else considered a stable marriage. But knowing herself, Hermione knew that as content as she may be, her own marriage would never be the perfect image of stability. And she liked that- she didn’t want a boring marriage.

It was hard sometimes, marrying someone as famous as yourself. Always having to plan around each other’s busy schedules, only ever spending evenings together. Moving through the ranks in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn’t difficult, but she was still spending a good portion of her week at memorial services for those whose bodies had just been recovered or officially declared dead. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be there, but she certainly should have been there anyway. And he of course came to the memorial with her, when he could. But his job was time consuming, and he didn’t always get a chance to make it.

Snapping out of her reverie, Hermione began to pull the pins from her hair, getting ready to turn in for the night. She realised she was no longer staring at the empty city as a whole, but at the empty street- which actually wasn’t empty anymore. A dark figure stumbled through the street square. Bringing her hands down from her hair, Hermione stood and leaned over the railing. The figure was coming toward the flat.

Merlin no. Hermione’s thoughts raced as she debated on waking her husband. No, it’s probably nothing. But when the figure began to bang on the door with his fist, it wasn’t really an option. Walking into her bedroom, she went over to wake him, but then she heard the voice outside. It was familiar.

For the love of all things magical. She rushed down the stairs to the front door. Slowing herself before she got to the door, Hermione realised how long it had been since she had seen this person. Had she really not seen him since the wedding? She put her hand on the doorknob, flinching from the incessant banging. Opening the door, her eyes went immediately to the figure lying at her feet.

And immediately her eyes met with those of Ron Weasley.

Standing there in shock, she realised that her hair was still only half taken down. Her mind distantly registered that she was standing on a damp doorstep with absolutely nothing on her feet. It was just purely unbelievable. Hadn’t Ron said- no she wasn’t going to think about that. It would only cause her more pain in the situation that had appeared at her feet.

“Get up,” Hermione muttered under her breath. He tried to grab onto the door frame, but didn’t manage to pull himself up all the way. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a standing position. Immediately regretting her rough motion, she let Ron lean on her shoulder as she dragged him into the house. Dropping him in a chair, Hermione walked over to the other side of the table and crossed her arms.

“Any explanation, any explanation at all?” Her voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Well, I- ” Ron’s voice slurred as he tried to say something, which made her even more angry.

“You show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night- drunk nevertheless- and just expect me to talk to you? What happened to your final statement at my wedding? At my wedding, of all places, you decide to lose your temper with me! And you don’t expect me to mind you banging on my door at all hours of the night? You make me sick.” Her words were harsher than she had intended, but she didn’t regret a single one.

“I didn’t think you’d really mind at all.” His voice was slow and slurring, a product of the firewhiskey.

“You honestly didn’t think I would mind, Ronald?” Her voice was still cutting, and Ron winced.

“Talk softer… please. No I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m an old friend… right?” Hermione glared at him.

“Old friend, are you? Is that what friends do, show up at each other’s weddings to tell them that they- Well, you know what you said. Last time I checked, they don’t.” Hermione came around the table and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Do you even remember what you said to me that night, or are you too wasted right now to even remember to know I’m married? You embarrassed me in front of everyone. My parents, Harry, your family, and Viktor.” His eyes narrowed at the sound of the name.

“Vicky? Is that all you care about? Godforsaken… Vicky?” Ron slammed his fist on the table, knocking over the vase that sat in the middle. Water spilled onto the floor and Ron tried to get up. “Let me… get that.”

“It’s fine, let me get it. If you wouldn’t have such a temper…” Hermione’s voice trailed off. Of course he has a temper, he’s Ron Weasley. She began cleaning up the water, and he continued to talk.

“Lemme at least explain why I’m here- ” His face donned a look of pleading and remorse, but Hermione didn’t believe one second of it.

He’s drunk, for heaven’s sake, of course he looks guilty. “You better have a damn good excuse.” Her eyes narrowed, and Ron slumped down into his chair.

“Well I was over at Harry and Ginny’s flat earlier this afternoon…and Harry and I had a row… About you. He said that I was completely out of my mind for doing what I did at the wedding. Ginny left the room to let us sort things out but it got out of hand. Harry said he was disgusted with what happened that night. He said he was embarrassed for what you and Viktor- ” Ron spat the name out like it was poison. “-had to go through with me being there… He went on about how I was lucky to have even been invited.” Ron finished breathing heavily, as if it had taken all the energy to tell the simple story.

“And how did you little argument start, then? How did I even come up in conversation?”

“Ginny made a comment about how you had gotten together for lunch and I asked why I hadn’t been invited.”

“Oh I’m sure you know why you weren’t invited.”

“Why would that be? I never got to know because Harry started yelling.”

“Because, Ronald, you said you wanted me dead! You said that you would have rather seen me dead than for me to marry Viktor! Harry, and not even your own family, can forgive you for saying that after what you did to me the first time. You know you had your own chance to marry me, but you screwed that up all on your own. Everything you have blamed on Viktor, but there is no way you can possibly blame him for what you did.” Hermione was up to a full blown scream now, and she casually flicked her wand toward the stairs, doing a non-verbal muffliato.

“I trusted that you would be there, but then you doubted the fact that I even could have loved you and then you went off and left me at the alter on the day of our wedding- to try and somehow save yourself. We may have been young, but do you think I would have even gotten up there that day if I hadn’t loved you? But you were too insecure to realise that, weren’t you?” Her laugh was grim. “I never doubted you at all, and then you went off and did that. And when I finally pieced my life back together enough to find myself another relationship, one that didn’t fall through, I invited you to my wedding! Because although I wasn’t marrying you, I was happy and thought you might want to share it with me. But when you decide to tell me that you’d rather see me dead, out of pure spite for Viktor, and decide that you should publicly humiliate me in front my friends and family- that’s when you stop getting lunch invitations,” Hermione finished, trying to catch her breath. Moving to the stove, she put water on for some tea. Behind her, Ron sat dumbfounded.

As she continued to wait for the water to boil, she sat in the chair opposite Ron. He clearly didn’t know what to say, because he still had the same expression on his face that became plastered there five minutes before.

“Can I use your bathroom?” His voice sounded strained. Hermione motioned her head to the hall outside the kitchen.

“Third door on your left,” She muttered. Ron stumbled of the kitchen, slamming the bathroom door as soon as he was in there. As she heard him vomit- repeatedly and hopefully into the toilet- she sighed. Apparently firewhiskey and shock weren’t a very good combination.

He walked back into the kitchen with a bit more colour on his face and sat down.

“I didn’t realise…” His voice had less of a slur but she still could tell that he was wasted.

“Of course you didn’t,” Hermione snapped. The tea kettle began to squeal and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. Pouring tea into both, she silently brought them to the table and began to sip the scalding brew. “Why did you go get drunk? Why did you come here?”

“Well, I never intended to get drunk… I actually went down to the Leaky Cauldron to have a drink, but then I must have accidentally got a Refilling Glass because my mug was never empty… And then I kind of tried to think of a place to go and I knew it couldn’t be Harry’s flat because he only just kicked me out… So I just kind of wound up here.”

“Expecting what? For me to fall on the ground, begging for forgiveness, and admit that I was wrong for marrying for Viktor? Is that what you really thought would happen? Because I told you I was happy- and I wasn’t lying.” He grimaced at her lack of emotion.

“But you did admit you loved me once, didn’t you? You admit that something was once there. Why isn’t it there now? Is it because he has something I don’t have? Because I can’t find any part of Viktor Krum that is better than me… No part at all.” Hermione face hardened and words lashed out like eels.

“Ron, I think you’re too wasted to realise how empty your words are. I loved you- once. Before you screwed yourself over by leaving me. Don’t throw the blame on me when I was the one who was hurt. I loved you, but you didn’t trust me enough to believe it. Now that I’m happy with someone else, you can’t seem to realise that it’s your fault that it isn’t you I’m happy with.

“And Viktor is twice the man you are, all issues considered.” Ron raised his eyebrows doubtfully and she smirked. “Oh please, do you honestly think I’m that shallow?”

“I didn’t-”

“Ronald, just shut your mouth before I go all third-year Malfoy on you.”

“But-”

“We are done. I’m not discussing this with you anymore.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Where do you want me to Floo you to? Your parents’?” He shook his head before Hermione could say anything.

“Please, not… my parents. They are pretty much….furious with me as it is. Can I stay here?” Ron’s face had the pleading look again.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Hermione conjured up a pillow and tossed it in the other room. “The couch is free.” She rolled her eyes and walked up stairs. How exactly am I going to explain him to Viktor?

Walking into her bedroom, she saw that Viktor was still sleeping- and snoring for that matter. Going onto the balcony, she looked back out into the London skyline as she began to finish taking down her hair. Really, it was a silent city tonight. Nothing could break it. Not Ron, not anyone. Setting the pins on the table inside the door, Hermione sat back down.

Nothing would break her silence. No matter how dead to the world they were.