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Chapter 2 : The Fight
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“G'night, Betty. See you.” Hermione said tiredly. She rubbed the bags under her eyes and trooped over to the ministry entrance, hoping Ron had done what she'd asked and made her some dinner. She was going to eat, go to bed, and get to work as fast as she possibly could tomorrow morning.
The Robinson Case was absolutely draining, there was no other word for it. With every single law and law book Hermione researched, she grew more exhausted and sick of her job. When the cases were simple, even moderately difficult, she was happy. But this case, although she was getting paid handsomely, was the hardest one yet, and was proving nearly impossible to crack. Hermione sighed to herself as she walked over to the elevators.
She was 20, and although already she was one of the most respected lawyers in the ministry, she had zero respect at home. Then again, it was Ron, so she should have seen it coming. He was always drinking, being messy, and being lazy, listening to the radio and sleeping instead of doing something that needed to be done. Hermione often got frustrated with him, but every time he got under her skin all she had to do was look into his eyes and remind herself was the fact that she loved him more then life itself and her anger usually melted. However, on nights like these, he always managed to drive her crazy. Last night, he was in 'the mood', which Hermione usually had enough patience to ignore, but on nights like these it got to her. She knew that it wasn't fair to Ron, but when she was as exhausted as she was at this very moment it would be like making love to a dummy anyway. And besides, she wanted to make their first time special. They were only 20, and although they shared a bed they'd never actually slept together. Hermione didn't want that to be just any random night. It was important to her, although she suspected Ron just really wanted to get into her pants.
Hermione flooed into her flat and threw her purse on the hall chair. She looked at herself in the mirror and examined the dark circles under her eyes. She was getting almost no sleep, between the case and trying to take care of Ron, who, most of the time, acted like a 2 year old. Hermione finished examining herself and walked into the small kitchen. She turned the switch, and light flooded into the room. There was a note on the kitchen table.
Hermione- I've gone to watch Harry's Quidditch game. Be back around 10.... or later if they win. Don't wait up. Or do. Depends on what mood I'm in when I get home. -Ron
PS: would you do my laundry?
Hermione let out a exasperated sigh. How the hell was she supposed to know what mood Ron was in? She stomped out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, locking the door shut, and hopefully locking Ron out. She turned to the switch for light. Nothing happened. Oh, dear God, not again, Ron. Hermione blindly searched the room for Ron's bedside table, found the diluminator and picked it up. She hit the switch and light flooded into the room. Hermione angrily threw the diluminator back down on the table and threw on a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. Then she crawled tiredly into the bed and promptly fell asleep.
Hermione woke up to a loud banging on the door. She groaned, noting silently that she was waking up from the most peaceful sleep she had gotten in months. Probably because Ron wasn't there, snoring like a bloody maniac.
“Heeerrrrrrmmmmiiiioooonnnneeeeeee!” Ron's drunken voice called out. “Herrrmmmmiiiioooonnnee! They won, Herrrrrmmmiioneee! Haaaaarrry (hiccup) wonnn!”
Hermione bolted up in bed. Ron had taken to drinking beer, just to prove to his mother that he could. He trashed the house and tended to not know where to draw the line on the number of beer cans per night. It drove Hermione up the wall, and now, when she needed sleep most, he had chosen to do it again. All of a sudden, she felt overly frustrated. She felt like she couldn't stand one more second of Ron. He had been annoying her her whole life, and it was about to change. She'd thought maybe he could grow up. She was wrong. She wrenched open the door and almost lost her anger as she looked at Ron's blue eyes.
Until he puked on her carpet.
“RON!” Hermione screeched.
“Owwwwww, Hermione.” Ron giggled, clutching his head like a 3 year old. “Take it easy, darling.” he slurred.
Hermione's mind zoomed into a scene just a few years ago, just after Bill's and Fleur's wedding.
“Alright, darling?” the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling. “Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!”*
Hermione drew herself up into her tallest position. She was finally going to take the drunk's advice. Or at least half of it, that is.
“Ron, get the hell out of my house, and don't you dare come back!” she said in the calmest voice she could muster. Ron looked at her in a drunken shock.
“B-But Herrrrrmmmmmiiioooonnneeee!” He wailed. “You don't reaaaaalllly mean that.”
“Wanna make a bet, Ron? GET OUT!” she shreiked, finally at her breaking point. And she slapped Ron. She slapped him as hard as she could. He moaned.
Hermione bit her lip, feeling remorseful for her actions. Maybe she'd been a little too harsh. Wait a minuet. Her boyfriend shouldn't be getting drunk on almost a nightly bases. But if he just stayed sober... maybe she could stop being angry at him? Hermione stomped into the kitchen and threw every single beer can and firewhiskey bottle out the window. This was the last time she would let Ron buy a drink, because one and he was sure to need more. Problem solved.
Then she walked into the living room and saw what a mess it was. Beer cans all over (without coasters). Popcorn and pastries scattered around the room. The radio on, static and loud. And Hermione forgot about forgiveness at the sight of her favorite room in the flat trashed. She ran back over to Ron and yelled,
He immediately was sober.
“LISTEN UP, RON! YOU HAVE EXACTLY TWO HOURS TO CLEAN UP THIS ROOM AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I MEAN IT! IF I SEE YOU HERE, I'M GOING TO CALL THE POLICE- OR WORSE- YOUR MOTHER!”
Ron turned pale.
“Hermione... what did I do now?” he asked, clutching his head.
“THE LIVING ROOM, MY FAVORITE ROOM IN THIS FLAT, IS A TOTAL MESS, BEER CANS WITHOUT COASTERS, FOOD SCATTERED ALL OVER THE PLACE, YOU DON'T RESPECT ME OR WHAT I WANT, YOU WENT OUT TO A QUIDDITCH GAME AND GOT DRUNK WHEN YOU KNEW I HAD A HARD DAY AHEAD OF ME... AND YOU'RE A TOTAL NIGHTMARE TO LIVE WITH!” Hermione screamed. Ron looked shocked and angry, at himself or at Hermione she couldn't tell. She stomped into her room, still furious, and was about to slam the door shut when she remembered one last thing.
“ AND DO YOUR OWN BLOODY LAUNDRY!” she said, dropping into a chair and letting a few hot tears roll dejectedly down her cheeks
Ginny sighed exasperatedly and peered down at Ron.
“You're going to have to move sometime.” she told him. He stared stonily at the wall. Ginny glanced at Harry, who rolled his eyes.
“Ron, I'll give you bacon if you tell me what happened.” Ginny said, trying out a new strategy.
“Hermione ordered me out of the house, she told me not to come back. She named all these things I was doing wrong.”
“Okay, that worked well.” Ginny smirked.
Ron turned over in bed, frowning, oblivious to Ginny's silent conga dance.
“How come it worked out so well with you and Harry? You live together, and you're working out just fine.”
Ginny glanced over at Harry, who smiled at her. It was him who answered Ron's question first.
“I guess, Ron, it was because we were willing to fix the minor things that annoyed each other, but we didn't change ourselves. Ginny has made me a better person, and I have made her a better person as well. I think.” Harry glanced quizzically at Ginny, who gave him a reassuring smile, then added,
“I believe they call it compromise. Look it up.”
“I think I'm going to puke.” Ron told them both. “And, I don't need to look it up, Ginny, I have Herm..” but he stopped in the middle of the word and his face turned to stone again.
“I'll go get the bucket.” Harry said.
“I'll go get you that bacon.” Ginny told Ron. They exited his room, Ginny closing the door behind her. She stopped half way own the stairs.
“Harry, I don't think this is a good time to tell them we're engaged.” she told him seriously.
“I know. I agree.” said Harry.
“But... we can't keep them in the dark forever, either.” Ginny said, thinking out loud. “The wedding is in 3 months. They're the maid of honor and best man. They're going to have to dance with each other and walk down the aisle together.”
“Oh, merlin. We're going to have the world's worst wedding if they're both at it.”
There was a moments pause, during which Ginny got a very shifty look on her face.
“And that's exactly why we have to get them back together.” she said, her eyes glinting.
“Get... get them back together? Hermione hates Ron right now!” Harry said sceptically. “And they're both the most stubborn people on the planet. Neither will ever swallow their pride and admit they're wrong.”
“Harry, I don't care how long it takes, I will not have my wedding until my best friends are somewhat civil to each other. And you know how I get when I'm trying to do something.” Ginny said furiously.
“Only too well.” Harry said with a wicked grin. “What's the plan?”
“Well, I have two. One: have Hermione talk to Ron and see how miserable he is. He'll know how bad it feels to loose her now, and he'll try to get her back. Two: well... lets hope it doesn't come to that.”
“Women.” Harry muttered. “They'll do anything to have the perfect wedding.”
“Mission Impossible is a go.” Ginny said quietly. And when something was a go for Ginny Weasley...it was defiantly a go.
A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed the second chapter of 'The Perfect Match'. Please note that the starred section of the story was from Deathly Hallows and everything you recognise along with that belongs to JKR, not me. Please review and tell me what you think. Constructive critisism is apreciated, and be sure to check out my authors page to ask me a few questions. ~writergirl8
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