Author's Note - See chapter one for disclaimers, warnings, ratings, etc.

Chapter Eight

They drove to the local newspaper office. Hermione asked the girl at the front desk for a mutual friend of theirs who wrote the police blotter.

"Hey, guys! What's going on?" A man in a crisp white shirt, dark blue tie and slacks came flying around the corner of the receptionist's office.

Hermione said, "Hey yourself, Dennis. We need some info on the accident last year." She gestured to Ron, who wasn't paying attention, as he looked out the big picture window and into the parking lot.

Dennis glanced at Ron, then to Hermione. "Oh. But, don't you guys have the reports at work?"

"Yeah, but we need to know more personal information about the people in the other car," replied Hermione.

"Oh. Okay. Come on back to my office." Ron and Hermione followed him to a small office in the back of the building. Dennis said, "Sit down. I'll get some files and be right back."

Hermione sat, while Ron lingered by the door. "Why don't you do this? I don't want to be here."

"I thought you wanted to do this?"

Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. "No, you did. I wanted to sit in my house and drink my beer!"

"Oh, that will accomplish things." Hermione tried to catch his arm to pull him towards the other chair.

Ron stayed by the door and said angrily, "I don't care. I don't want to see him again, anyway. What difference will it make?"

"Whether you take him back or not is your business, but wouldn't you like to know the truth?"

Ron sometimes hated it when she made sense and made him do things he didn't want to do, but should. He sat down with an annoyed mutter that she couldn't understand, but she assumed it had a curse word or two in it.

Dennis came back in with a manila file folder in his hand and sat at his desk, opening it. He shuffled some papers and glanced at Ron. Ron looked away and stared at the poster of a local sports team on the wall behind the desk. Dennis then turned to Hermione. "What do you want to know?"

Hermione looked over to Ron, and then asked, "Do you have information on the Malfoy family?"

"You mean, any other family members?" asked Dennis.

Hermione nodded. Dennis looked at his paperwork and pulled an obituary from the other papers. "They had a son named Draco."

Ron got up and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He stood up against the wall next to the door. He didn't want to know what the truth was. He wanted to be angry and hurt. It was easier than forgiving and loving.

He walked outside and sat on the curb by the car, waiting for Hermione. She finally came out and crouched down next to Ron, touching his shoulder. He flinched, but didn't look up.

"He's their son. His birth name is Draco Malfoy, but he change it when he turned eighteen," said Hermione.

Ron didn't say anything, but continued looking out into space.

Hermione continued, "Ron, I don't think he knew Harry was your boyfriend and I don't think any of this is his fault. He is probably really ashamed of his father. Why don't you give him a chance?"

"I can't right now. I want to be angry for a while."

"Okay, I guess, but please don't let it eat at you." Hermione touched his arm again, but this time he didn't flinch. Hermione continued, "Come on. Let's go pick up the baby and we'll spend the day with you."

Ron perked up a little at that. She was finally going to let him go home and wallow in his depression.

Within an hour, they were back at Ron's house, with Ron already moping on the couch nursing the warm beer in his hand. Hermione put the baby down for a nap in Ron's bedroom and went into the kitchen to make some lunch.

The phone rang, jerking Ron into the present. Hermione answered it on the second ring. "Hello?"

Hermione pushed the kitchen door opened and looked at Ron. "What?" said Ron, irritated.

"Hi, this is Hermione, Ron's friend."

Ron scowled at her.

"I don't know. Let me ask." Hermione cupped her hand over the phone and walked towards Ron. "It's Draco. He wants to talk to you."

Ron spat out, "No! Don't want to talk to him." Ron turned back to the television with the scowl still on his face.

Hermione said, "I'm sorry. He doesn't want to talk to you right now."

Ron whipped his head around to her and screamed, "I don't want to talk to him ever!" Hermione jumped and the baby started crying in the other room.

Hermione hung up the phone and yelled back, "Thanks a lot, Ron!" She stomped into the bedroom to quiet the child. Ron sulked on the couch, not saying another word.

After a while, Ron noticed Hermione had never come back and he didn't like the loneliness of the living room, so he got up and walked into his bedroom. He saw Hermione sacked out on his bed with the baby in her carrier on the floor.

He dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned and looked at Harry's photograph. After a moment, he got up and walked out his front door. The sun was high and the sky was very blue, with very little clouds. It was warm, but with an ocean breeze drifting inland.

It was his favorite weather and it made him feel a little better. He walked all the way to the end of pier and stood at the railing. He looked at the outline of the islands on the horizon. He breathed in the ocean air and thought for a long time.

He rationally knew it wasn't Draco's fault, but he just couldn't accept it right now. It had opened up old wounds and hurts. It had made Ron remember almost a year ago and the first time he tried to sleep in their bed alone. He remembered how he hadn't thought he could love anyone ever again. Now he had. He had given himself to someone. He had fallen in love. He wanted to go to Draco and tell him he understood. Tell him he wasn't responsible, but he knew he wouldn't. Not right now.

*****

Draco was angry with his father, angry with Ron, and angry with the God that had some sort of sick sense of humor. He knew he shouldn't be angry with Ron, but he just wanted him to understand. Or forgive him. For what Draco didn't know. He hadn't done anything. That's what he was angry with Ron about. He hadn't done anything. Was he supposed to be responsible for what his father did? It wasn't fair, because he hadn't done anything.

He placed the phone down after he tried to talk to Ron and went back to work. He knew he shouldn't call from work; he was just going to upset himself, but he just had to try to talk to Ron. He would call later when he got home. He thought about how he was supposed to go over to Ron's after work, but knew he wouldn't be welcome. He couldn't concentrate very well and had made mistakes at the register so many times, his boss yelled at him. He sighed to himself, hoping this day would end soon.

*****

Ron finally walked back to his house. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was still daylight. When he walked in the door, Hermione was on the telephone. She saw him, hung up the phone and said sharply, "Where the hell have you been?"

"On the pier. What of it?" Ron retorted harshly.

"I woke up and I didn't know where you were. I was concerned."

"Why?" Ron headed for the kitchen to get another beer.

"Because I'm worried about you." Hermione followed him.

As he opened the refrigerator and grabbed another can, she said, "Ron, you have to work tonight. You shouldn't have anymore beer."

He turned around and popped the top of the can in front of her. He had wanted the company before, but now her bossiness was irritating him. The television would be fine company for him for the rest of the evening.

He walked back and flung himself down on the couch.

"I have to go home for a while before work," said Hermione.

Ron didn't say anything.

"I'll see you tonight at work, right?" Her brow was furrowed in concerned.

"Yes." Ron's voice was monotone.

"You going to be okay?"

"Yes."

"I mean, are you-"

"Hermione, I'm not going to do anything stupid, if that's what you're worried about. If I was going to kill myself, I would have done that last year."

Hermione looked nervous and ran her hand through her bangs. She sighed, gathered her baby and her things and left Ron sitting on the couch, nursing his beer, depressed.

Ron sat there for hours staring at the television. It was getting dark outside, when the phone rang again. He ignored it and let the answering machine pick it up. It clicked and beeped.

"Ron? Please talk to me. Are you there?" Ron got up, grabbed the receiver and clicked the off button to disconnect it.

He started to walk back over to his spot on the couch, when the phone rang again. It clicked and beeped again as the answering machine picked up.

"Ron? Was I disconnected? Please, Ron!"

He grabbed the phone again and screamed into it. "I don't want to talk to you!" He slammed the phone down so hard, the back cracked open and the battery hung by its wires. He angrily shoved the battery back in and slammed the phone down again into the cradle.

He knew it was time to get ready for work, so he slowly took a shower and got dressed. He wasn’t looking forward to listening to Hermione for eight hours, but there was nothing he could do about it. She would be happy he was still alive anyway.

*****

Draco pulled the phone away from his ear, when Ron screamed. He looked at it after the loud click of Ron hanging up on him resounded through his head. He placed the phone on the table and sat on his couch, staring at the television before him. He whimpered to himself. He so wanted Ron to listen to him.

*****

It was one of the longest nights Ron had ever worked. He couldn’t wait for it to be over with and for Hermione to shut up. She said things that made sense, of course, but Ron wasn’t in the mood to listen and take anything to heart. He wanted to pout and stay angry.

When he got home, the answering machine was flashing at him. He glared at it. He knew Draco probably had called him again, this time able to leave a message. Ron ignored it, walked to the bedroom and went to sleep.

*****

Ron didn’t check his messages for two days. He finally listened to them when, at work, Hermione had said she had left a message while he was out doing errands and wondered why he hadn’t returned her call.

He pushed the play button, heard the click and waited. “Ron. I know you're at work. Please listen. I am so sorry. I really didn’t know, until Saturday and then when you started telling the story, I really still wasn’t sure. I didn’t want it to be true, so when I got home, I looked at some articles I had saved and I saw that it was true. Please don’t hate me. I love you. I-” The message cut off. Draco had gone on too long.

Ron listened to the rest of his messages, and then erased all of them, except for Draco’s.