Hermione yawned as the bright sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains, waking her up. She rolled over, pulling the covers over her head in an attempt to block the day out. Two minutes later, when the day still hadn't gone away, she reluctantly untangled her feet from the duvet and got up. She struggled to remember the night before as she pulled her dressing gown around her until she realised that she was still wearing the same dress as last night, only someone had taken her shoes off. Hermione frowned as she wandered into the living room, where she let out a piercing scream.
"What? What is it?" the person lying on her sofa yelled as he promptly fell off it.
"You! You're what it is!" Hermione screeched back.
"What? What am I? Why are we still screaming?" Ron cried, though it was slightly muffled by his shirt which had become tangled around his head. This turned quickly to laughter, however, which Hermione stopped screaming long enough to join him in.
"You scared me! I mean, I wasn't really expecting to find someone asleep on my sofa!" Hermione sat down on the sofa, instinctively flattening her hair, as Ron struggled up. "What are you doing here? Wait - what happened last night? I remember talking with you for ages, and that I drank a bit at the party, then someone shoved me in a fireplace..."
"Yeah, that would be me,” Ron admitted, buttoning his shirt back up quickly. “I took you home halfway through the party; I didn't think it would really be a good idea to let you attempt it on your own."
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked stiffly, her hackles raised instantly. "Ron, I can decide for myself what's a good idea or not, thank you! If I want to drink too much sherry - not that I did! - I shall!" Hermione felt her voice raise higher than she'd meant it to, but she couldn't just stop there. "If I want to make it home on my own, it isn't for you to decide whether or not I can, or when I do! I'm a grown woman, and far more sensible than you, I'd like to add!"
"Oh, yeah?" Ron retorted loudly, colour flowing into his cheeks as he yelled back without thinking. "If that's so true, then why was I the one helping you home when you didn't even know half of what you were doing? Why was I the one who had to follow you back here to a place I'd never been before, just to make sure you were okay? Why was I the one who stayed here all night talking just so you wouldn't be left on your own when you were drunk? Why was I the one who had to put you to bed when you were out of it?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed after a moments silence, having the decency to look slightly ashamed before curiosity got the better of her, much as it had Ron the previous night. "Why did you?"
Ron let the door slam behind him as he threw his coat onto the coat hanger, missed and watched it fall to floor.
"Good thing I wasn't a Chaser..." he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen and into a sight he really didn't want to see.
Tiffany was standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, glaring up at Ron.
"Where have you been?" she asked accusingly, tapping her foot. "I've been waiting here for hours - where were you? Your bed wasn't slept in, I went to Harry's house and he said the last time he'd seen you was leaving halfway through the party with Hermione?" Tiffany had never met Hermione, but Ron was sure that she wasn't completely unaware of the comparisons to her she'd had to put up with from everyone, especially during the earlier stages of their relationship. She'd had to hear many stories about Hermione over the years; some she had welcomed, others she hadn’t, especially upon hearing how close Hermione and Ron used to be.
"She's my friend, I couldn't leave her like that! Who knows what could have happened?" Ron reasoned, trying to subtly avoid her glare.
"Exactly - who knows what could have happened? Ron, I'm an tolerant person! I have no problem with you doing things without me, things that I might not know about or might not necessarily want you to do. Wouldn't you say that I'm a fairly trusting girlfriend?" Ron nodded; it was true. Tiffany was always very understanding, whether it was because he wanted to go away for a weekend to watch a Quidditch match, or he had been spending time with a pretty girl alone at work; she was usually alright about it. "But when you stay the night at your drunk ex-girlfriend's house - who happens to be Hermione, of all people, who I haven't even met but feel like I know so much about! - you can understand how I might be a little upset!" Tiffany was now pacing around the room angrily, wringing her hands. "What am I to think Ron? And not even a week before our wedding! Well?"
"Well, actually it was longer than a week before our wedding, as most of this was yesterday and we're getting married a week today and - Tiffany, I'm sorry!" Ron changed tack, noticing his fiancée's murderous glare. "It was nothing, really! I was just making sure she was okay, it was late, I'd had a bit to drink as well, so I slept on the sofa. That's all. We're just friends, honest! We're not even really good friends anymore," Tiffany didn't fail to pick up on the tinge of regret in his voice.
"Yes, but from what I hear you used to be a lot more than that."
Ron sighed. "Yes, Tiff, but that was a long time ago now! Besides, I'm engaged - to you! We're getting married! Does spending the night at an old friend's change that?"
"You tell me."
The doorbell awoke Hermione from her slumber, as she shook off the heavy book that lay on her chest, and got up from the sofa that she had hardly moved from all day.
"I'm coming!" she called out drowsily as she stumbled into the hallway and opened the door.
"Hi. Are you Hermione Granger?" Hermione could only nod blankly as she examined the woman standing in front her.
"Yes. Who are you?"
The woman still standing on her doorstep emitted a hollow laugh complete with a short smile as she extended her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You see, I almost feel as if I know you already, I forget that you don't know me. Tiffany. Tiffany Malease." Hermione shook her hand after only a split second's shock, which she felt she was able to conceal fairly well. Tiffany settled herself down on the chair in Hermione's lounge as she was invited inside. Hermione felt herself immediately analysing Tiffany. There's no way she's a natural blonde! she thought, rather cattily. I wonder how she got that scar on her nose? Ron didn't mention that... I bet she's a Quidditch fan. "So, I was wondering if I could talk to you... about my fiancé?"
"Ron? Of course, what do you want to know? Although I'm not sure I'm really the right person; I don't really see him much any more. Harry would be the better person to ask." Hermione waved up some snacks and drinks from the kitchen, mainly to give herself something to do.
"No, no, it's definitely you I wanted to talk to. You see, I heard how close you and Ron were, and wondered why I'd never met you." Tiffany's voice may have seemed light, but Hermione couldn't help but sense there might be a far darker undertone to it.
"Well, like I said, I don't generally see Ron anymore." Hermione began to prepare her usual speech of, 'We just grew apart over the years', but Tiffany got there first.
"I know that you were young, that you grew apart over the years - Ron's told me all that. But he also told me that he spent the night here last night."
"Nothing happened," Hermione said automatically, shifting in her seat, looking longingly out of the window, trying her hardest to shift the thought from her mind that she was not entirely certain of that fact.
"Oh, I know," said Tiffany with a smile. "That's what Ron told me. I trust him. Really, I do... But I can't help but worry a little. I mean, my fiancé spends the night with a woman I don't know, who he used to be crazy about - oh, I've heard the stories!" Tiffany told her very matter-of-factly, before Hermione had the chance to deny or protest against her words. "Well, I'm a woman! Can you really blame me? I suppose I just wanted to put my mind at rest." Tiffany reached forward to take another slice of cake. "I just want to make sure that my life is, well, safe. I mean, I love Ron! I just don't want him to leave us on my wedding day, and be left thinking, why didn't I do something? I know, I may be being completely irrational, but - "
"Wait - us?" The cogs were turning around inside Hermione's head and coming to a conclusion she desperately wanted to be false - one of the only times she had wished for logic to fail her. Hermione looked up to meet Tiffany's gaze for the first time, but this time, Tiffany was the one who looked away.
"I didn't mean to - yes. Us. I'm pregnant." That word seemed to echo in Hermione's head, taking a second to sink in. "But please - don't tell anyone. I want to wait until after the wedding, I mean...”
“Oh, no, that’s fine. I - I mean, congratulations. That's - that's great!" Hermione stuttered. She felt dizzy; everything seemed to have turned to a blur, from Tiffany's soft smile, that in Hermione's eyes seemed to be edged with artifice, to the slice of cake still in her hand, halfway to her mouth. "So what did you want to know?"
"The truth."
No Other Way by Oppungo
Chapter Notes: As always, many thanks to my brilliant beta, ms weasley, and to all of you for reading.