Chapter Text
Arthur:
Molly was leaving him. After twenty years of marriage and seven children, it was over. He didn't know what to do. How to feel. He knew, of course, that the sex had never been something she enjoyed. She wanted a big family, though, so she'd let him back into her bed a few months after each child was born. He was… virile. And it took on the first try nearly every time. Once she was pregnant, he was sent back to the couch along the back wall of their bedroom. So yes, he knew she didn't enjoy the sex. Nor the kissing or cuddling. But Arthur had been able to deal with that. He masturbated nearly constantly, but hey, it was worth it for the love of his life, for their beautiful family. Besides, Molly was his best friend. They laughed and talked and shared their lives. That mattered more than any sexual connection.
But then she met her idol. Arthur had thought nothing of it. So, she was addicted to those news articles. It was just women's stuff— gossip and fun. When she started sleeping over, he hadn't liked it, but she'd told him they were too drunk to aparate or even Floo. It was the safe thing to do. He'd probably known deep down that it was suspicious. But he'd not let himself think about it too hard. But everything had just come crashing down. Molly had sat him down in his favorite recliner, held his hand, and just said it. "I love Rita."
"I know, Molly. She's your best friend. I'm happy you have someone you can have fun with." He must have sounded so dense to her.
She'd shook her head. "No, Arthur. I love Rita. I'm moving in."
"But why? You love me. You live here with me and the kids. This is where you belong," He'd been sobbing.
"The kids don't live here anymore. This will hardly affect them at all. But I'm a lesbian, Arthur. I love women; I love Rita. And I won't pretend anymore. I can't. I've packed up the essentials already, but I will be back in a few days for the rest of my things. You can be here or not. It's up to you. Goodbye." And then she'd picked up her bag, stepped into the Floo, and didn't look back.
Arthur was still sitting in that same chair. He hadn't moved an inch. How could he? He'd spent more of his life as Molly's husband than not. He felt betrayed and blind and so incredibly stupid.
Suddenly, the Floo sprang back to life. "Molly?!" he called out. "Have you changed your mind?"
But it wasn't Molly who stepped through the green flames.
"So sorry, Mr. Weasley. It's just me." Hermione brushed the soot from her bare shoulders and off the cuffs of her rolled denim shorts.
Arthur did his best to pull himself together and hide his tears. "A pleasure to see you, Hermione. And you're an adult now; please call me Arthur."
She shook her head, "Sorry. Of course, Arthur. I don't know why I struggle with that so much. Anyway, Ron is over at mine packing up his things, and he's insisting I have his Chuddly Cannons jersey, and I'm keeping it to spite him. I keep telling him he left it here after the last summer cookout. But of course, he didn't believe me. Do you mind if I just pop up to the laundry room and check for him?"
"Of course, Hermione. Please let me walk you up." Arthur began to lead her up the steps.
"I can find my way. I've spent some time here after all," Hermione teased.
Arthur shook his head. "Course you could," he said, laughing a bit at himself. "Still, I'm up. I'll escort you."
Hermione smiled at him. "Escort me? You are such a gentleman, Mr. Weasley, I mean Arthur," she rushed to correct herself.
"Mhm. Not sure being a gentleman helped me much in life," he mumbled. "Here we are," he opened the door, and sure enough, laundered and folded nearly on top of the washing machine was Ron's jersey. Arthur shook his head. "Wish my son had been a bit more of a gentleman to you. I'm so sorry things are ending between you two."
Hermione smiled up at him ruefully. "Thank you. I appreciate it. But I'm fine with it. It was time to stop pretending it was working. I think Ron really just needs time to grow up."
He leaned against the door frame, contemplating her words. "So this is just a break? Let him sow his wild oats, and then you think you'll get back together?"
She placed a soft hand on his bicep, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin cotton of his button-up. "I'm so sorry, Arthur, but no. I should have phrased that better. He needs time, but I'm ready now. I want to be married. I want to have children, and I won't wait for him any longer. I'm sure when he's ready, he will find a nice woman and settle down. But it won't be me."
Arthur wasn't sure if it was her comforting touch, how she talked about wanting a family and love, or simply everything finally catching up with him, but tears began streaming down his face again.
Her hand squeezed his bicep gently. "Oh, Arthur, I didn't realize our breakup affected you much. I shouldn't have come. I'm so sorry. I'll leave."
She began to slide by him out of the open door, her chest brushing just barely against his. He reached out and took her by the shoulders, halting her retreat. "No, no. I promise I'm fine with you and Ron ending things. I'm sorry. I know how this must look. But this is just a misunderstanding."
She was frozen where he held her. Her chest was heaving as she caught her breath, her body touching his in a million small places.
He realized how inappropriate he was being and let her go, stepping back out of the room and allowing her room to move.
But Hermione didn't run. She turned, looking at him with an unreadable face. "So if it's not about me and Ron, then…why are you crying?"
Arthur rubbed his face with both hands. He shouldn't have said anything. He needed to tell the kids before anyone else, but he felt the words tumbling from his lips anyway: "Molly's left me. She's in love with Rita."
Hermione stumbled backward, her back meeting the wooden wall behind her. "Is this some weird joke?"
"I wish," Arthur told her truthfully. "But no. Molly says she's a lesbian, and now she's leaving me to live her life as she always wanted to."
Hermione gasped. "I…I had no idea."
Arthur chuckled derisively. "Me either. She told me less than an hour ago. I need to tell the children…"
Hermione glanced down the stairs. Arthur felt terrible. He'd put too much of his own problems on her shoulders. She was dying for a reason to leave.
"Look, Ron is waiting for me back at our…my place. So, I have to go. But if you ever want to talk about this or anything, I'm here, ok? I know that probably sounds strange. Why would you want to talk to me? But I just know how isolating breakups can feel. So please reach out. If you feel like it, I mean."
He felt the ache in his chest ease the tiniest bit at her kind words. "Thank you. That's nice of you to offer. I don't want to burden you,"
Hermione frowned.
"But If you really wouldn't mind," he continued, "then I think I would like that a lot."
She smiled faintly. "Good. That's settled then." She bounced up on her tiptoes to give the much taller man a quick hug before bounding down the stairs and back through the Floo.
Arthur went to his bedroom, lay in the bed he hadn't been welcomed into for years, and thought about what he would do next.
Hermione:
The letter from Arthur came first. Hermione was sitting in her living room on a Thursday evening. It felt so empty even though all of the furniture had been hers. When Ron left, he'd taken all his sports paraphernalia: the little quidditch player figurines, the cannon's throw blanket, the signed quaffle from the last World Cup. She'd never cared for any of his additions to their decor, but now, with it all gone, the room felt wrong. She was trying to ignore that nagging feeling and read the latest romance novel from her favorite author, Lady West, But it wasn't going well. The gentle tapping on the window alerted her to the presence of Arthur's owl, Faron.
Hermione dashed over to the window, opening it and letting the brown and black long-eared owl inside. She untied the letter from Faron's leg before getting a small bowl of water for him to splash in. The summer heat was unbearable, and she knew it had to be rough on the owls too.
She watched briefly as Faron splashed and spun in the cool water. He cooed appreciatively, and Hermione petted his wet, silky feathers before drying her hands on her skirt and opening the letter.
Hello Hermione,
I am planning to tell the family this weekend. I've asked everyone to come by for Sunday dinner, including Molly and Rita, thinking we could all do it together. I haven't heard back from Molly, but Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Bill have all agreed to come over. Charlie is, of course, unable to get leave from the Dragon Sanctuary, so I plan to make a separate call to talk to him. I know they are all grown, but this is still a big change, and I want to do this right. I was wondering if you could come over Saturday and help me prepare for how to tell them. I understand if this is too much to ask. But you are the only person who knows. Would it be alright?
Yours,
Arthur
Hermione pulled out ink, a quill, and some parchment from her writing desk to reply.
Arthur,
I think that is a lovely plan. Telling the family as one united front will show them that you and Molly are still on good terms and that their lives won't turn upside down. You are such a good father. I'm not sure how much help I will be, but if you want someone to talk this through with, then I'm your girl. I can be there around noon on Saturday, and we can spend the day talking about it as much as you like.
Your friend,
Hermione
She tied the letter back to Faron's leg and sent him back out into the heat with a small pat on his head.
If Hermione had been distracted before, now she was completely unable to focus. Sure, she was sad that things had ended between her and Ron, but what Arthur was going through was so much worse. He must feel so betrayed, and instead of being able to process it on his own, he was worrying about his children and planning dinners for them.
As much as Hermione wanted kids of her own, she was glad she'd never had a child with Ron. Things ending would have been so much more complicated. Hermione's mind started to drift to strange places after that thought. Like how did a lesbian have seven children with a man? What must their sex life have been like? Hermione's cheeks blushed at the thought. Arthur was a good-looking man. She'd noticed, of course. She'd been secretly quite pleased to think that as Ron aged, that was the sort of man she had to look forward to. He wasn't muscled; he had more of a dad bod look. But he was tall and broad and strong. His hair was that striking shade of red with just a touch of gray at the temples. His arms were a particular favorite of Hermione's. Ron's arms were on the smaller side, toned from quidditch but never thick, not like Arthurs.
The second letter arrived right around 6 pm, the tap on the window pulling Hermione from her inappropriate musings.
She didn't recognize this owl but opened the window and let them in. She untied the cream envelope from the Barn owl's leg and looked at the information written in a tidy script on the front of it.
From: Rothbury Flat Complex Management.
To: Ms. Hermione Granger & Mr. Ronald Weasley (Residents of Apt. 7A)
Hermione felt her heartbeat pick up. She knew things had been hectic this month, but she knew she'd remember to pay the rent. It had been hard to pay for it independently, but she'd done it. She'd slipped the gallons in the envelope herself and dropped it off in the front office. Had she not had enough coins inside after all?
She decided to stop torturing herself and just open the damned letter and see what the matter was.
Dear valued residents,
As you may know, your lease expires next month, on the 15th of July. We here at Rothbury Management Group have been hard at work improving our shared spaces. We have upgraded the public Floo, refreshed the cooling and heating charms, enchanted the ceiling in the management office to depict a blue sky and fluffy white cloud, and even improved your safety with new wards that automatically lock at 7 pm every day. As such, we are increasing your rent by 11% to cover the costs of these improvements as well as the increased cost of living. We have a new lease agreement ready for you in the management office. Stop by at your earliest convenience.
Thank you,
The Rothbury Apartment Management Team
"Gods Damn it," Hermione cursed as she threw the letter down on her desk. Having seen that she had read the letter, the barn owl left the still-open window. Hermione slammed it shut behind the bird and watched as it flew the short distance down to the front of the building.
Working for the Ministry didn't pay well. That was the simple truth. At least not as far down the ladder as Hermione was currently. Hermione could not afford this rent increase. She'd be fine getting another roommate, but it was a one-bedroom. Fuck Ron and his stupid childish behavior. He was going to be fine. He was moving in with George above the joke shop. Fred's old room had been empty for months since he'd gotten a place with Angelina. Things always worked out for him. But Hermione had just finished moving him out, and she would have to move herself out now, too. She stomped her feet and let out a yell. She knew it was silly, but she had to get the pent-up anger out somehow. This had not been her month or really her year. When she was done throwing her fit, Hermione collapsed on the couch. She didn't even pretend to pick her book back up. Reading was simply not going to happen today.
Hermione spent every free minute over the next two days scouring the Prophet for a new place to live. She liked living in London. It was a quick walk to the Ministry and all of her favorite shops, but Hermione was willing to live anywhere that was available within her price range as long as it was safe and clean. But apparently, that was asking for too much. Nothing decent seemed to be available. She had a month to find somewhere to live, but Hermione knew how fast that time would go. Most of her hours were spent at the Ministry working in the DRCMC, The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It was hard work, often thankless, but she was making a difference, and she enjoyed it. She was proud to go into that office every day. But Hermione wasn't sure what she would do if it didn't pay the bills.
When Saturday rolled around, Hermione had hardly had a free second to think about Arthur or how she could help him. She'd wanted to check out some books from the library on divorce and read through them to give him some pointers, but that had gone straight out the window when the letter from her complex came through her window. She hoped that even without reading up on the subject, she could offer Arthur some solace, an ear to listen, and a shoulder to cry on. Hermione threw on a lightweight sundress and walked down the street to Diagon. She popped into Flourish and Blotts, picked up a few promising looking books on the subject and then walked to the nearest apparition point. With a small tug from her belly button, Hermione was carried by her magic straight to the front lawn of the burrow.