The Silver Envelope

A New Perspective

Chapter Notes
TW: emotional abuse.

If Hermione were honest with herself, she knew it might come to this. Just now, as she'd glimpsed the pain and desperation in Ron's face as he'd tried to stop her from leaving with Draco, it had finally hit her. She needed to find it, that part of him that couldn't let go of her, and kill it. End it before someone else got hurt.
She'd hoped to resolve it another way. Hoped he would eventually come round, or simply give up.
Now that it was clear he wouldn't, Hermione could no longer avoid it. Even though she was dead on her feet and soaked in the sticky, drying blood of the man who'd just held her hostage, she knew she couldn't wait. It had to be now.
Gazing into those familiar blue eyes, feeling her heart harden into stone, Hermione spoke her least
favorite word in the world
"Obliviare.
Loathsome spite, festering and foul, overtook Hermione like the smell of a rotting corpse. Malice such as she'd never experienced in her life lived in Ron's brain, tinting and distorting every flash of
memory vving for her attention. It was almost as if he wanted her there. in his brain. so that he could rub his anguish in her face. To combat the cloying memories attempting to bury her alive, she called out to herself, willing his thoughts of her to the forefront. Ron's memories complied, lining up for her.
Dark red blood, soaking into tight ropes.
A glowing, flying beast reflected in astonished eyes.
Frozen hands gripping a broomstick, racing the wind. Terrorized thoughts about failing to find her in time.

Hermione flicked through Ron's memories in reverse, shoving past them as she tried to keep his
strong emotions from overpowering her own perspective.
This time wouldn't be like it was with her parents. She was determined on that front. Going all the way back to scrub every instance of her from his memory would do too much harm. She might unintentionally make him forget everything he'd learned at Hogwarts, since she had been there beside him for every class and study session. And that was if she could perform such a complicated feat successfully. If she went all the way back to his memories from age eleven, there was a good chance Ron would end up in St. Mungo's, sharing a room with Gilderoy Lockhart and dealing with severe neurological damage. No, there had to be a more efficient way to handle this situation, one that didn't result in sweeping destruction
She wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for or what she needed to alter. Trusting that she would know it when she saw it, she pushed forward-or rather, backward.
Draco, ruthless and intimidating, grabbing Ron's face and dripping Veritaserum down his throat.
A bar, grimy and lonely, where Ron drowned his troubles in a glass of Firewhiskey.
Johanna, eyes dead and dark, tangled hair hanging around her face, promising to take down Draco
Threatening words on a page, the spiky letters rising from the parchment and forming hundreds of spiders, which proceeded to scuttle in every direction.
The entirety of the Weasley family, surrounding him as they voiced their concern and anger.
Ginny, slapping him hard across the face. Harry turning his back.
Hermione stopped when she saw herself again, wielding a whip of fire burning as brightly as the anger in her eyes. Ron's fear in that moment had been potent, but it was accompanied by
resentment and detensiveness. He had thoroughly justitied his actions. In his mind. he had done
nothing wrong that day
She continued onward, past the image of her sipping spiked Valentine's tea and the dull, weary look on her face when she'd shown up at Harry's for their date.
Hermione was surprised to find that many moments which ought to have been crystal clear were muddy or faint, difficult to make out. Ron's cancerous jealousy colored every recent memory, fogging up each one like a noxious gas. His malignant attitude had blurred his recollections, twisting and distorting them into unrecognizable wisps of pain and panic. She had little experience with editing video footage, but she imagined it was something like that. Ron's memories had been rearranged, trimmed, and slowed down or sped up to emphasize certain things while heavily downplaying others. The result was a mess, a disorganized cacophony of hurt and anger, in which little truth was left visible.
Curiously, Hermione sped further back into the recesses of Ron's mind, quickly scanning the flashes of recollection as she went. How long had this been going on, this insidious disfigurement of reality? When had it begun? If she had the answer to that, perhaps she would understand how
best to nelp nim.
No. Not help, she realized. She needed to stop thinking that way. She was so used to coddling him, taking care of him in every regard. But he was beyond her help now. What she needed to do was end things, once and for all.
When did it begin? She asked the question to Ron's mind. When did his jealousy start to get out of control?
Unlike the moment she had first entered his mind, when he had shoved his pain at her from all directions, she found he had now gone quiet. He was holding back, attempting to keep something from her. Forcefully, she asked again, taking his mind in a firmer grasp.
A flash of resentment stole over her as an unfamiliar memory began to play out.
Ron was at work, in the back room of the shop, eyes beginning to glaze over as he stared at the paperwork on his desk. A single lamp softly illuminated the quiet, cluttered space, making him feel sleepy and warm. On the cabinet in the corner sat a stack of sketches and preliminary designs for the miniature Boggarts, the ones he had been helping George with all day while Marietta ran the
till. They would have a prototype soon.
He wanted to go home. He was hungry and tired and sick of sums and inventory. The only thing
keeping him from going home right now was Hermione.
She would be working late again, of course. Had sent a note that she would be missing dinner again
He hated the way it made him feel, the times when she stayed at work, like he was the last thing in
the world she cared about.
This, the feeling of coming in second to someone or something else, was nothing new. It had plagued him his entire life. With Harry, it had been even worse than usual lately, and that was saying something. Ever since he and Ginny got engaged, it was like Ron didn't even exist to his parents anymore. Like Harry had completely replaced him within his own family.
And now this, with Hermione. Back when they had first gotten together, he'd been on top of the world. Finally, he was the one who saved the day, who got the girl. With Hermione, he, Ron, was the top choice, and it felt bloody fantastic.
Until now. When he was coming in second to, of all things, some bill about house-elves. And that was if he even believed it really was the elves keeping her out all hours of the night.
Hermione had never seemed like the type to cheat on him, but he couldn't ignore the evidence. It was exactly as that copy of Witch Weekly had reported, the one he'd read that time he'd been bored
at his mum's house and had picked up the magazine out of curiosity. All the signs of cheating werc there: staying out late at work, making flimsy excuses, receiving secret correspondence, pulling away from intimacy, refusing to even entertain the idea of getting married she was seeing someone behind his back. He was almost sure of it.
The idea had been nagging at him for weeks now. He'd tried to prove it several times, but Hermione was simply too good at covering her tracks.
"Alright, boss. I've finished tidying up," came Marietta's voice at the door to his office. She was poking her head in, smiling at him with her bag hanging from her shoulder. "I'm gonna head out, alright?"
She looked extra pretty today, with her dark, wavy hair pulled into long pigtails and her lips shiny with some sticky purple stuff. She'd always been pretty-that's why George had hired her. Loads of blokes came to the shop just to be near her; it was good for business.
In fact, now that he thought about it, she had been getting more dressed up than usual lately.
Several days in the past week, he'd noticed her wearing dangly earrings and reapplying her shiny lip stuff. And now she was in his empty office, smiling at him, blinking in that way girls did when they wanted you to notice their eyelashes.
And suddenly it clicked. The answer to what to do about Hermione.
"Hey, er, wait a sec, would you?" he said, an idea forming in his head.
He got up from his chair, rounding his desk and leaning back against it, seeing Marietta with new eyes.
Of course he'd fantasized about Marietta. What bloke wouldn't, with a girl like her around all day?
But he'd never actually entertained the idea of doing anything about it before.
But now a new image had entered his mind. One of him fooling around with Marietta in his office, just having a bit of fun, and then Hermione walking in on them. She'd be so enraged that she
wasn't the only one who was seeing other people in secret. Maybe she would slap Marietta across the cheek. Maybe she would get jealous enough to realize how much she loved him.
It was a gamble, but he didn't have much left to lose at this point. The way things were going, Hermione already had one foot out the door anyway. He had to do something drastic if he didn't
want to lose her.
And in the meantime, why shouldn't he enjoy himself with a pretty girl? It wasn't as if he was
getting any action at home anymore
"Er. I was wondering..." he said, trailing off while he thought about how to phrase his next words Of course, Marietta knew about Hermione-everyone did. But if he said this next bit in just the right way, maybe she would let her guard down. "Um, would you maybe want to get a drink with me tonight? It's been a long day and I thought you might want to relax or something
He waited with bated breath as Marietta blinked at him in surprise.
"Oh. Um," she said, stalling. Her eyes flicked out the door. "Er, well, that's a nice offer, but I actually have plans tonight. With my boyfriend. Got a date," she said with an apologetic smile.
"Um, but maybe some other night you could come out with us, or something? We could all get a pint together."
Pity. That was pity in her voice. She felt bad for him.
Ron swallowed the acidic anger rising in his throat like bile.
"No! No, don't worry about it!" he scoffed, forcing a smile for her. "Forget it. I didn't know you had plans. Of course. Have fun with your boyfriend, then.
She smiled brightly.
"Alright. Night, then. See you tomorrow."
She disappeared, leaving him to wallow in self-hatred.
What had he been thinking? Of course she had a boyfriend! He hadn't even thought to ask.
She'd assumed he was lonely. That he needed more friends. The thought of her feeling bad for him
made Ron want to put his fist through something.
It was like he was cursed or something. Like he had been born to always finish in last place, no matter what he did.
He switched off his desk lamp before leaving.
Hermione watched as the scene around her went dark. Ron's memories began to swirl around her again, the swimming flashes of color whizzing by in no particular order. Her question from earlier, about when Ron's jealousy had begun to spin out of control, was still bringing new memories
forward. It hadn't been one singular moment, then. There were many others.
One of them, she noticed, was shrouded in prickly, monstrous emotions, like a wall of thorns had grown over it. Hermione had to pry her way through the thick emotional guard and hold it open in order to see it. What was left of the degraded memory played out in pieces, distorted like a warped
record
"...think Hermione is stupid? Do you think she's easily influenced?" Malfoy was saying, his face close to Ron's. his breath hot on his face. " ..crooked my finger in her direction, knowing she'd come running? ...you're a moron, Weasley...she decided to leave you, she did so because she's smart, because she saw straight through your whiny, idiotic charade...she realized that a pathetic little git like you couldn't possibly help her reach the greatness she's destined to achieve."
Pain sliced through Hermione's chest via Ron's recollected emotions from that moment. Gritting her teeth, she forced the memory to keep playing.
*you think you can? You think you're the man she needs?" Ron had countered.
"You still haven't got it yet?" Malfoy shouted. Ron winced. "I don't matter in the slightest, Weasley! Whether I'm around or not, she's better off without you!"
With those words, Hermione was forced back through the wall around the memory as the shroud of thorns closed over it once more.
That must have been what Draco had said to Ron after she'd left the Christmas ball. Hermione.