Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 22: Hermione Weasley

He sighed. "Get inside. You'll catch your death."

She charged past him. "I know you don't think I mean it. But I mean it this time! It's over!"

"What'd he do now?"

She paused in the sitting room, taking in the general slovenliness, but making no comment. She turned.

"It's-it's...ugh!"

Without a word, he moved to the bar cart along the far wall. He poured her a glass of single malt and placed it on the table for her.

She looked at it and sat down.

"What did he do?" Harry repeated, pouring himself a glass.

"We were at dinner," she sniffed once he'd sat down. Her nose was very red. "With some new investors for the shop. They asked what I did and I told them. One of them made some snide remark that the elves he enslaved were perfectly happy."

Harry nodded, sure the investor hadn't said it like that, but understanding her point.

"I, of course, couldn't let that go," she fumed. "Investor or not, it was bigotry and I called him out on it. They left early and Ron was so upset when we got home. He said-he said..."

Her eyes filled with tears and he swallowed. She was shivering hard in her wet clothes and, wordlessly, he got up and went to the washroom. He draped a fresh towel over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said thickly, wiping at her face. She took a shaky sip of her drink.

"He said," she continued, "he said I didn't have to be so insufferable...that I was selfish, getting into all that when the dinner was so important, when the shop needed the money." A smooth ribbon of tears slid down her face. "He just wanted me to sit there. Be the supportive girlfriend. But tell me how I'm supposed to shut up about slavery, Harry! It's 2002 and there is slavery in this country. Does that not matter?"

"It matters," he sighed, taking her hand. It was like ice and he warmed it between his palms. "It matters."

She swallowed, another ribbon sliding down the curve of her cheek.

"So, it's over," she whispered. "It keeps happening. These fights over my work. If he can't see how important it is to me, then I guess...he doesn't really know me. He doesn't understand me. And I can't be with someone like that."

Harry blinked and felt his breath leave him. She was serious this time.

He was ashamed to admit it, but his first thought was for himself. Would they be able to spend time as a group anymore? Would they force him to choose sides? How could he possibly strike a balance between them? He needed them both in his life. He didn't know another way.

But, seeing her tear-streaked face, her downcast eyes...he couldn't think about that now. He rubbed her hand.

"Have you told him yet?"

She shook her head. "We argued for a while, but I stormed out before we'd really finished. Then, I came here." She looked around the flat. "I hope I'm not disturbing..."

He shook his head.

"Do you...do you think I'm doing the right thing?" she asked despairingly.

Harry dragged a hand through his long hair. "I don't know if I can answer that, Hermione."

She swallowed again.

"He's so infuriating," she mumbled, staring into her drink. "He'll be so clever and sweet one moment and, in the next, he'll say something like that."