Priorities
A one-shot by Skipper424
It did not take long for his face to flood with revolt as the realization washed ashore. The colour of his skin was quickly becoming every bit as red as his fiery hair. He ground his teeth and his knuckles crackled as his fist tightened around the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand. She was late again.
He glanced each way up and down the street one last time knowing that his eyes would not spot her. He knew her too well. He could see her quite clearly, seated at a desk in a tiny office at the Ministry, trying to work on four different reports at one time, at the same time she was trying to carry on a conversation with an international delegate whose head was sticking out of her fireplace and give instructions to one of her assistants as to the exact appearance she wanted for a pamphlet that was due out next week. She hadn’t changed since school. She approached her new role with every bit of drive and determination she had at Hogwarts. It was arguably her greatest strength … and weakness.
He glanced down at his watch, a birthday gift from her. He used to love it. It was perhaps the finest thing he had ever owned in his entire life. He remembered how stunned he had felt when he opened the box and saw the shimmering gold of the wristband. The sunlight hit it and the reflection was blinding. It even had a diamond where the twelve should have been on the face. He almost felt guilty taking it. He knew it must have cost her a fortune.
“Money doesn’t mean a thing to me,” she told him, delighted by his reaction. “I know how much you have always wanted a nice watch. To see the look on your face when you opened the box was worth every single galleon I paid for it.”
He threw his arm down back to his side in discontent. He remembered how she had given him a quick kiss, looked down at her own watch, then jumped up proclaiming she was late for a meeting. In an instant, she had bent over, grabbed her briefcase that was leaning on her chair (it seemed she never went anywhere without it anymore), and Disapparated with a loud crack. He was left standing there holding his shiny new timepiece. He would have never guessed, back then, how much he would come to dislike it. It had become a constant reminder to him of how successful she had become, how important her role at the Ministry was, and how little time she now had for him.
She was more than forty-five minutes late.
“She isn’t coming,” he mumbled to himself. He turned around and spotted an old Muggle woman walking down the street in front of the shabby-looking abandoned building. She had no idea she was passing in front of one of the most famous wizarding restaurants in all of London.
“Here,” Ron said, handing her the flowers.
“Oh!” The old woman smiled, surprised and blushing a little. “Thank you, young man! You’ve made my day!” she said with a gleam in her eyes.
Ron forced a kind smile onto his face. He waited until she disappeared around the corner and then Apparated back to the Burrow.
“Where are you going?” Hermione demanded. She was sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow next to Ginny.
Ron headed towards the door dressed in his Quidditch robes and clutching his broomstick in his hand. He had passed by Hermione and Ginny without comment or even acknowledgement that they were present. The sunlight was brilliant. It blasted through the windows and chased the darkness back into the shadows behind the old wood furnace in the corner. The sky was deep blue like the sea with only a few wispy clouds hanging just above the tree line to the east. He turned back to them at the sound of her voice.
“Thought I would have a go,” Ron answered simply, holding up his broom. “We haven’t had a day like this in ages and I haven’t played since before the War.”
“I thought we would spend the afternoon together,” Hermione stated with a look of disappointment.
It was as though the levy inside him had suddenly burst. All this time he had been holding his mounting anger back. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oh,” he snarled as he turned to face her, “you actually managed to fit in some time for me.”
“What?” Hermione protested, looking very affronted. Ginny just froze, realising she was at ground zero for yet another legendary Weasley row.
“Are you sure you don’t have a meeting? Have you spoken to the Minister today? Are you certain there isn’t a representative from some distant country with a problem that demands your immediate attention? Are you absolutely positive you haven’t forgotten something?”
“Ron, what are you talking about?”
“You cannot be serious!” Ron answered, enraged that she did not know what was upsetting him. “I mean, you are joking, right? You’re not standing there telling me you have no idea what’s wrong.”
Hermione looked over at Ginny with a worrisome expression. Ginny shrugged and threw a look on her face that clearly said don’t look at me.
“I’m sorry,” she finally responded weakly, “but, no.”
Ron rolled his eyes, kicked open the door, and then stormed out. Hermione looked over to Ginny whose eyes had widened in surprise watching her brother leave. Hermione’s face was so flushed Ginny could swear she felt the heat coming off it.
“He hasn’t said a word to me,” she declared as though she was attempting to deflect any potential blame.
Hermione threw her chair aside and set out after Ron. She barrelled out the door and out across the lush green grass in the yard behind the Weasley home.
“Ronald Weasley,” she called after him, “you stop this instant!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t work for you,” he called back at her nastily over his shoulder. “Though, maybe if I did I might actually see you once in a while. Instead, all I get from you now is missed dates and broken promises.”
Hermione caught up to him and seized his arm. He quickly ripped it from her grasp. As the two of them stood there, as she caught her breath from hurrying after him, it dawned on her why he was so angry.
“What?” she inquired in a sort of guilty innocence.
“Don’t be thick,” he shot at her. “Where were you last night?”
“I had to …”
“Finish up a report for work?” he finished the answer for her.
“A presentation to be given to the Minister, actually,” she corrected him.
“Ah,” he inclined his head sarcastically, “my mistake. Where were you a week ago when we were supposed to see that Muggle play you were all excited about?”
“They called an emergency meeting of all the department heads,” she responded. She sensed the evidence was beginning to mount against her. “Ron …”
Once again, he did not let her finish. “I didn’t even really want to go … stupid Muggle play. Why would I want to go to something like that? All I wanted was to spend time with you. But you just couldn’t pull yourself away from your damn work for an hour and a half, could you?”
“This is the most important thing I have ever worked on in my life. This is everything to me, Ron, everything! Can’t you see that?”
“Oh, I can see it,” Ron raged, turning and swinging a leg over his broom. ‘You’ve left little doubt where everything ranks when stacked up against work, Hermione.”
Tears had started to form in Hermione’s eyes. “How can you be so selfish?”
“I’m being selfish?” Ron looked shocked and pointed to himself. His face was so red that his head looked like it was on fire. “Me? You’re barking mad! I was starting to think the only way I would ever get to spend quality time with you again was to apply for a job and hope I get an interview.” With that, he kicked off hard and zoomed away, leaving Hermione stunned. Tears began streaming down her face as she retreated back to the Burrow.
It was well after dark when Ron finally pushed open the door to the Burrow. He braced himself for a rapid-fire verbal assault directed at him the moment he entered. It never came. The room was dark except for a faint glow from the fire. He saw someone sitting in front of it and an icy wave of fear rushed through his body. After his eyes adjusted to the lighting in the room, it was only a second before he recognised the long, straight red hair of his younger sister. She glanced over at him.
“Don’t bother being so quiet, she isn’t here any more,” she said, turning back to the fire.
Ron closed the door behind him and leaned his broom on the wall beside the door. “Don’t tell me you just sat there all day again. You know, that isn’t going to solve ““
“Don’t lecture me, Ron!” Ginny snapped at him. “Not after I spent all afternoon counselling your girlfriend.”
Ron walked over and chose a chair next to his sister. “You did?”
“I did,” she nodded. “She came back in tears after you left.”
Ron gulped. “What did you say?”
“Well, she explained to me what was going on. You know, all about how busy she’s been. She did admit that she has gotten stuck at work and missed dates with you lately, but wasn’t sure why you were so upset. She went on and on about how much this means to her because of her parents and everything.”
“And then?”
“I told her I couldn’t blame you for being feeling like you do.”
“You what?” Ron gasped, looking surprised.
“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve seen Harry?”
“No,” he replied, looking perplexed.
“Six months,” she informed him, looking down at herself. “I told her I know exactly how it feels to be ignored by the one you love.”
“What did she say?” Ron asked eagerly.
“She wasn’t happy with me at all. She got very upset with me and rambled on for twenty minutes about how no one has any idea how hard she has been working and how historically important her project is. She kept blabbering things about how no one takes Muggles seriously and how we need to find a way to integrate our societies peacefully now that they know about us.” Ginny took a deep breath. “Then, without saying anything else, she just left.”
“Bloody mad, that woman is sometimes,” Ron mumbled as he shook his head.
“She needs you, Ron. She’s really busy and working way too hard for her own good. But she needs you right now, maybe more than she ever did.”
“Yeah, suppose you’re right. Maybe I’ll drop in on her tomorrow. Doing it tonight when she’s still worked up might not be a good idea.” As he said the words, he felt a measure of doubt in their wisdom. Somewhere inside, he felt part of him screaming to go to her straight away. He buried it. He reasoned that he was more likely to make things worse than accomplish anything good. Ron looked his sister in the eyes. “Thanks, Ginny. Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ginny smiled. For the first time that day, a big smile formed on Ron’s face. He hugged his sister and then kissed her on the forehead. “Just do me one favour,” she asked as he stood up. “Remember this the next time you bump into our Saviour.”
“Deal,” he agreed, “only, I didn’t hear you call him that. You know he hates it.”
“Yes, I know he does,” she grinned evilly.
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Ron made his way upstairs to retire to his room.
Ron got an unexpected jolt the next morning when he arrived in the kitchen. Hermione and his mother were seating together having a cup of tea. They had been chatting quietly but ceased immediately when they saw him. Mrs Weasley patted Hermione on her forearm while Hermione avoided making direct eye contact with Ron.
“I’ll leave the two of you alone now,” Mrs Weasley said, excusing herself from the room.
For a few minutes, Ron just stood there, and neither he nor Hermione said a word. She looked anywhere but at him. She had taken a particular interest in the mantle above the fireplace where rested a picture of the two of them. It had been taken in the fall just after the war had ended and showed them dancing in a circle against a backdrop of bright orange leaves glowing brilliantly in the sunlight. She was so happy then; they were so happy then. She wished she could go back and just live in the moment captured in that frame, if only for a few minutes.
“Sleep well?” Ron finally spoke up. Immediately he dropped his eyes to his toes. He thought for sure she would think he had the intelligence of a mountain troll to ask such a dumb question.
“Not really,” she answered simply. “I went home, tried to work on a few things, but it was no good. I couldn’t concentrate.”
Work, there it is again, Ron thought to himself, letting off a tiny huff. This drew Hermione’s attention to him for the first time. He immediately straightened his appearance, hoping she didn’t catch it. “I didn’t sleep much myself.”
“I gave up at about midnight. I just couldn’t stare at the reports any more, so I went to bed. If they ask me any questions, I’ll have to pray my assistant read them more closely than I did. I won’t have an answer.”
She’s still talking about work! a voice in Ron’s head roared. “Ever think about giving it a rest?”
“What?” Hermione asked, looking dead serious.
“I mean, you’re not the only capable one at the Ministry. Couldn’t you just let someone else handle things for a day or two? Just so you can catch your breath,” he added, as there was a hint of anger in her eyes.
“No one at the Ministry cares, Ron!” she retorted, her voice rising slightly. “Not even my assistant. Just the other day I caught her chatting with one of the service wizards. He had come in to fix our window. For some reason, it always appeared as though a massive storm was coming. Anyway, she was telling him how crazy I am to be spending this much time and energy on anything to do with Muggles.”
Ron winced. He knew the words that had queued up in his mind were bound to instigate another nasty fight. He choked them down. Unfortunately, Hermione read him like an open book.
“What?” she demanded. “You were going to say something.”
“Well,” Ron began timidly as he kicked himself in his thoughts for not cutting the words off before they formed. “Doesn’t your assistant have a point?” He couldn’t believe he had actually said it.
For the first time in his life, Ron understood perfectly what the phrase if looks could kill meant.
“I can’t believe you could say that,” Hermione said in a kind of quiet rage that Ron felt was more unnerving than anytime she had ever yelled at him. “You know what this means to me. You know I’ve thought about this my entire life. This is my chance, Ron. All of those times back in school I had to put up with Malfoy and his band of cronies, all of those times they called me those awful names. I had to go through a war knowing that I was wearing an extra-large bull’s-eye. Not only was I a friend of Harry Potter’s, but a Mudblood to boot. You saw the gleam in those Death Eaters eyes the time they almost caught us at Godric’s Hollow. I wouldn’t have been just another kill for them. I was a trophy.”
“It didn’t stop there either.” Her voice rose a little more. “The war ended, sure, for most. We took care of Voldemort and got rid of the worst of the Death Eaters, but just look at the way the wizarding society treats Muggles. How do you think that makes me feel? Do you know how many wizards there are still out there who agreed, at least in principle, with Voldemort’s central philosophies? The only difference is they aren’t willing to go to the lengths he was to bring about those changes.”
“See, that’s not even the point,” Ron said, knowing full well it was going to make things go from bad to worse. “You know I know how much this Summit or whatever it is you’re working on means to you. You know I think it’s the right thing to do. I’m just saying, do you have to do it all yourself?”
“If I don’t, Ron, no one else will, and we may lose this chance forever.”
“I suppose I might as well not count on you between now and the time you manage to single-handedly construct this little utopia with the Muggles. I suppose I might as well get right and friendly like with that extra pillow on my bed, because if I reach over at night to hold onto something, it sure as hell won’t be you there. You’re so busy on this little crusade of yours that you can’t find one night to spend with me.”
“I purposely set aside all yesterday afternoon and night for you. What did you do? You went off and flew around on your broom all day.”
“Did you ask me if I had any plans?” Ron noticed his voice had risen to nearly a yell. “Or did you just assume I would be at your beck and call like everyone who works for you?”
Hermione didn’t have a response initially. She knew Ron was right, but was far too angry now to admit it. She stood up.
“Maybe this just isn’t going to work out then,” she said, defeat saturating her voice.
Ron couldn’t believe it had come to this; it was the exact opposite of what he had intended. When he had woken up in that morning, he had envisioned himself wrapped in her arms, kissing her passionately. As was so often the case for him, real life turned out to be nearly the opposite.
He was choking up as he replied, “I don’t know if I can go on like this, Hermione. I don’t feel like I’m asking for the world.”
A tear streamed down her face. She loved him so much. She could feel it in her heart. Inside, it was screaming at her historical changes be damned!. Her mind, her drive to do what she thought was right, however, was still firmly in control of her actions.
“I’m sorry, Ron,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there for you. But I can’t stop now. I’m too close. The truth is the war hasn’t end for me. The name calling, the word Mudblood, they’re still out there in the wizarding community. It’s still everywhere, only no one cares because there aren’t thugs wearing masks going around killing people anymore. If I stop now, I’m just accepting it, and I won’t ever do that.”
Ron watched her turn and walk out of the door. He could hear her crying intensify as he left. When she was gone from sight, he slammed his fist down as hard as he could on the kitchen counter.
“Stupid!” he roared at himself.
The next two days passed in a daze for Ron. A blade was stuck in his side twisting ever so slowly as the hands on the face of his watch agonisingly trudged in circles. All he wanted was to see her again, to let her know that he supported her. He didn’t want to be without her. When he thought about it, he missed her, the sound of her voice, the way she rolled her eyes and then smirked at his awful jokes, even the way she constantly badgered and corrected him when he did something that didn’t meet with her approval. He let her down. He knew it.
Then again, he felt like he was at least making an effort. He hadn’t complained the first time she was a no-show for a date. Likewise, he didn’t say a word the second, third, or fourth times it had happened. He didn’t understand all the details of what she was working on; he rarely ever did. She worked with Muggles, that’s about all he could say. Given everything that was going on since the end of the War, with the secret being out about magic, he knew how busy the Muggle Liaison Office had become.
In fairness to her, the Ministry had not adjusted the staffing of her department to reflect the dramatically increasing workload. Though no one could convince Hermione of the fact, no one saw her department as a priority. He’d heard his dad comment once about how bad he felt for her, how he knew all too well what being in her shoes felt like. “It’s tough doing a job everyone thinks is a joke,” he’d told him. Ron had never revealed what his dad confided in him to Hermione. He knew that would have been a disaster.
He was sitting at the kitchen when he noticed a familiar snowy white owl sitting on the window sill.
“Hedwig!” he exclaimed. “How long have you been sitting there?”
Hedwig glared at him as if to reply, “It’s about time!” She extended her leg so Ron could remove a letter fixed to her leg. Ron reached into a bag of treats that the Weasleys kept by the window for the various owls that made deliveries there. She took the treat from his hand and then immediately jumped back out the window. Ron tapped the letter with his wand, unrolled the parchment, and began to read.
Ron,
How are you, mate? I was wondering if you want to meet me for lunch today in London. I thought about dropping by your place, only I’m terrified of what will happen if Ginny spots me. I’ve been meaning to speak to her, but I just can’t work up the nerve. Funny how a woman can do that, isn’t it? I can go face to face with Voldemort and Snape, but I’m terrified of your sister. Anyway …
I’m getting a little worried about Hermione. You know how she gets. She’s been working way too hard lately and simply refuses to take a breather. I’ve been doing some lobbying from my end to try and get her Department a little bit more financial support. But Scrimgeour doesn’t consider budgeting to be one of my assets. He just ignores me. I saw her for a moment this morning and she seemed very upset. I wish there was more I could do to help. I just don’t have a lot of pull in the Ministry when it comes to money for Muggle relations.
Let me know about lunch. Cheers.
Ron grabbed a quill that was laying on the sill and scribbled the words, I’ll be there, the usual place, I assume.
“Pig,” he called out the window. His tiny owl came spiralling toward the window excitedly. He tied the resealed letter the owl’s leg. “Get this to Harry,” he commanded. Pig gave a hoot of acknowledgement and zoomed away, into the sky.
Ron left for London at noon, Apparating to a street in front of a worn down looking Muggle pub. Harry and Hermione had discovered it. Since they worked together at the Ministry, they had lunch together about once a week. Harry had mentioned to Ron that she had not shown up on him a few times as well. He joked about it, saying he shouldn’t feel bad because she did it to everyone. It didn’t make Ron feel any better.
The place was jammed. Every single table had as many people as you could imagine sitting around it. The pub had earned a reputation for fantastic food and reasonable prices. Waitresses dodged in and out of the narrow aisles delivering food and drinks while conversations murmured in the background, splattered with an occasional outbreak of laughter. Smoke from cigarettes and cigars filled the air, giving the room a smog-filled appearance in the dim light.
Ron spotted Harry seated in a booth towards the back, seated on the far side of the table. The wooden chair-back, painted black, extended quite high. It made it impossible to tell if anyone was seating on the near-side as Ron approached. That is the reason he did not spot Hermione until he was standing next to him.
“Hi …” Ron started, but stopped abruptly when his eyes met Hermione’s. His heart jumped into his throat.
Both Ron and Hermione stared at each other, wondering what the other was doing there. Then, as though someone hit them on the head at the same time, they both shot suspicious looks at Harry.
“Oh,” Harry jumped suddenly, “I’ve just remembered. I’m supposed to have a lunch meeting with Scrimgeour today. He hates it when I’m late. Gotta run!”
As Harry stood up, he looked Hermione in the face. She shook her head but her expression softened. As he walked by her on his way out, he patted her shoulder. She reached up and touched his hand. “Bye,” she laughed gently.
“Can you believe him,” Ron asked when he was gone.
“Are you going to sit down?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ron replied, taking a seat opposite her.
“You came all this way. You might as well have something to eat,” she said, picking up the menu and beginning to pore over the choices.
Ron’s heart had not stopped racing. He could not stand the tension inside, so he figured it was better to get the hard part out of the way right up front. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said, reaching across the table and gently clasping her hand. “I was a git the other day.”
Hermione gave his hand a tiny squeeze. “It’s all right. I deserved it. I let work get the better of me.”
“Yeah, but look what you’re doing. Integrating the magical world with the Muggle world? I wouldn’t even know where to start. I do know it’s a huge deal, though, way too big for one person. I should be mad at the Ministry for not getting you more help. I shouldn’t be mad at you.” He looked her directly in the eyes and put both hands on the one of hers he held. “I know how much this means to you, don’t ever think I don’t.”
“Thank you, Ron,” she said, smiling warmly. “I promise I’ll make time for you, somehow. If I could just catch up on a couple things, it wouldn’t be so bad. But whenever I finish one thing, four more things are waiting to take its place. It’s maddening.”
Just then, a galleon lying on the table near Hermione jumped up, started dancing and singing, and called out to her, “Hey, look at me! Look at me!”
“What in the world is that?” Ron queried, jumping back in his seat.
“Remember those coins I made for the DA?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“These are something like those, only I made them talk. I gave one to everyone in my department. We use them as a quick and easy way to get a hold of each other.”
Ron watched for a moment as she examined it. Though he could not read it, a message must have appeared on the back side of the coin. He could see her sinking in disappointment. “You have to go, don’t you?”
“Sorry,” she apologised, wincing. She was worried Ron would explode in anger again.
Ron nodded, “It’s okay. Go. Do what you have to do. I’ll catch you later.”
Tears were forming in Hermione’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hermione, it’s okay, really. I understand,” he reassured her. “Why don’t you come over to the Burrow when you get done? I don’t care what time. I’ll wait up.”
“You will?” she smiled, wiping her eyes.
“You bet. Maybe I’ll devise some cunning plan of my own for Harry and my sister while I’m waiting to repay him for this,” he gestured at the table with both arms to refer to the lunch meeting. “That bugger!” he joked.
Hermione’s smile was more brilliant than it had been in weeks. She gathered her things and hurried out of the pub.
The waitress arrived at the table and looked surprised to see only Ron sitting there. “Where have the other two run off to?”
“Duty calls, you know,” Ron quipped with a smile.
“Just you, then?”
“Just me.”