Jaded (Rewritten)

Chapter Eleven: The Hardest Part of Letting Go

The Burrow: Ottery, St. Catchpole – Devon, England – 04:05 P.M.

Leila stood from the couch with a triumphant, sharp-edged smile. "Thank you for the tea, Molly, Arthur, but Lavender and I really must be heading home now."

Arthur stood up, his face weary but his manners intact, and offered his hand. "Thank you for visiting, Leila. It's been...an enlightening afternoon."

Molly rose as well, her smile looking more like a grimace. "We'll talk soon," she managed, her mind still reeling from the retching sounds on the porch.

Leila nodded, her eyes flashing. She turned to her daughter, who looked as though she might collapse at any moment. "Come on now, love. Your father will be arriving any minute, and he'll want to hear all about our chat."

Lavender stood up, her movements stiff and shaky. She looked at Ron's parents with a mixture of shame and desperation. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, for having us," she whispered shyly.

Ron let out a sharp, derisive huff and turned his head away, staring intently at a peeling patch of wallpaper.

"Ronald!" Molly snapped, her voice cracking like a whip.

Ron cleared his throat, the sound tight and resentful. "Have a safe trip," he muttered without looking at them.

Lavender nodded and nudged her mother, whose expression had soured at Ron's tone. "Let's go now, Mum. We need to go home."

Leila ignored Ron's insolence—though the set of her jaw suggested she wouldn't forget it—and swept toward the door. "Again, thank you for having us."

Lavender followed her mother awkwardly, casting one last, lingering, apologetic look at the room before closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was heavy. Arthur let out a long, shuddering breath and fell back onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "That went well enough, all things considered."

Molly patted her husband's hand before turning a blistering gaze on her son. "I'm disappointed in you, Ronald. I know the situation with Lavender isn't ideal, but I expected you to at least act with a shred of cordiality!"

Ron sniffed with disdain, his anger bubbling back up. "She's trying to pin the blame solely on me when her daughter was just as eager! I don't know why she's insisting on a wedding when everyone knows Lavender isn't exactly a woman of virtue herself."

"That is the consequence of your own irresponsibility!" Arthur interjected, his voice rising in rare anger. "We can't blame a mother for protecting her child. Lavender is their only daughter. Tell me, Ronald—wouldn't you expect the same if it were Ginny in this position?"

Ron looked abashed, his bravado crumbling. He averted his gaze to the floor.

"We've managed to calm Leila down for now, but the storm hasn't passed," Molly said, her voice grave. "She is expecting a wedding. You need to think long and hard about what you're going to do, because they aren't going to let this go."

Ron let out a defeated, broken sigh and bowed his head. "But I don't want to marry Lavender... I still want to marry Hermione," he murmured into his chest.

Arthur stood up, his face hardening. "Then you should have thought about that before you got involved with someone else. Hermione's ship has long since sailed, son. I don't think she'll even look at you after everything that's been done."

The words hit Ron harder than Harry's fist ever could. He buried his face in his palms, his shoulders shaking.

Molly threw her son a pitying look but didn't move to comfort him this time. She grasped Arthur's arm and squeezed it. "Come on, dear. Help me make supper."