An Outlandish Affair

Chapter 7 - 2001

Ron woke up on the morning of Halloween with what felt like a bludger sitting in the pit of his stomach. He looked to the right side of the bed.

Empty.

Sighing, he rubbed his face with both hands, the memory of the night before racing to the forefront of his mind. How had things gone so wrong? A month ago he and Hermione were happy as could be, planning the rest of their lives together. Now he hardly saw her, and to make matters worse for himself, he had a severe lapse in judgment with Lavender at the Broom. Hermione was never going to forgive him for this, she couldn't even stand to be near him last night.

Slapping his hand to his forehead, Ron chastised himself, You stupid git. How could you muck things up this badly?

With a final exasperated sigh, he forced himself up out of the bed. He was walking out into the kitchen when suddenly a large Great Horned owl flew up to the sitting room window, pecking at the glass with its beak. Ron walked over and opened the window, taking the letter the owl was holding before it quickly turned and flew off back the way it came.

Looking at the letter in his hand and furrowing his brow, he saw it was from Gringotts, the wizarding bank in London. That's strange, thought Ron, I've never gotten a letter from them before. Deciding that it could wait until after he came home, he tossed the unopened envelope on the bookshelf.

Turning to head out, he didn't notice that the letter had slipped off the top of the shelf, and slid down behind it.

By noon, Ron was finished with his flying lesson with the Ravenclaw first years. Secretly he had hoped a minor injury might have required him to bring a student up to the infirmary, but he found the students were annoyingly adept today.

He decided to try and press his luck, and see if maybe Hermione had cooled off enough to consider having lunch with him in the Great Hall, though he highly doubted it. She hadn't taken him up on a lunch offer since the first week of term. She'd probably just tell him to bugger off, and that all he thinks about is his stomach. Or worse.

He decided to try anyway.

Making his way to the Hospital Tower, Ron pushed open the door to find Madam Pomfrey flitting about between beds, fussing over students with practiced ease.

She glanced up towards him, noticing that he seemed to be looking around for something, or someone, specific. She strode over to him, a look on her face Ron couldn't quite distinguish. "Mr. Weasley," she addressed him, calling him as she would have when he was a pupil, "if you are here looking for Madam Granger, I'll have you know I have given her the day off. She was not herself this morning so I told her to take some time to rest," she gave Ron a pointed look, "perhaps you should do the same, dear. You're looking rather... off, yourself."

Ron managed a sheepish, halfhearted smile. "Erm, yes, thank you, Poppy. I'll be sure to do that. Happy Halloween, then," he turned and exited the ward. Madam Pomfrey sighed and shook her head slightly, young love, she thought, always so dramatic.

On his way out of the hospital wing, Ron made a detour down to the library, where oftentimes he could find Hermione sitting at her favorite table, surrounded by piles of dense textbooks. They were her "de-stressors," he recalled her always saying.

The librarian, Irma Pince, had multiple books floating through the air, on their way back to their proper place. Dodging one, he warily approached the desk of the strict witch. She still carried a slight disdain for him ever since his fourth year when he, Harry, and Ginny got caught eating giant chocolate eggs they'd gotten from Mum that Easter.

"Mr. Weasley," Irma drawled out as she saw him approach. Why did everybody still call him that? "I trust you left any sweets you may have possession of outside the library today?"