The Affair

Hello to you all! Welcome to the latest Lumione fic drawn from the busy and over crowded recesses of my mind. I hope you are prepared, this will not be an easy fic for some to read and I would recommend having tissues handy as I went through several boxes in the writing of this tale. Before we begin let me address the warnings….

WARNING #1: As always this fic is obviously non-canon, AU/AR is my specialty as I just don’t get the HG/RW pairing…it never made sense to me that such an intelligent, powerful witch would settle for someone so…Ron. If you don’t like it, don’t read it!!

WARNING #2: This fic deals with the death of a child. This can be a very emotional subject and difficult for some to read.


WARNING #3: It is very important for me to let you know that this story is based around an adulterous affair. I do not condone adultery nor am I trying to promote it, it is simply how this story unfolded and I was driven to write it. Again, I am not condoning the actions of the characters but they are what they are, I write it how it comes to me and hope you will read anyhow, but I understand if it’s too much for some.


The chapters are fairly short, but they get longer and juicier as we get to the meat of the story. Also, keep in mind that this is taking place long after the war, people are changed, broken and damaged and their characters will reflect that, they may seem OOC to you.


So…sit back, get your tissues and a glass of wine because we are about to begin…



Chapter One: Life Part I

Odd how much it hurts when a friend moves away - and leaves behind only silence. – Pam Brown


In a small house near Ottery St. Catchpole, Hermione and Ronald Weasley were sat down to dinner. To anyone looking in it would appear normal, just an ordinary couple having dinner, but the truth of it was they weren’t an ordinary couple. The Weasley’s were living a life of misery.


Hermione looked up from her plate at her husband of ten years and wished she could find something to say to him. She couldn’t remember the last time they had engaged in an actual conversation. Their lives had become a series of moments spent together, yet never were they more alone. In the beginning they had been wildly in love, reveling in a life without war and tyranny. In the beginning they had lived the fairytale.


But as with all fairy tales the dark clouds had moved in to shadow their happiness. For five long years they had tried to conceive a child. Month after month they would wait expectantly only to be disappointed. They saw a number of healers, muggle and wizard, but none could offer an explanation for their infertility. Then a miracle occurred and they discovered that they were going to have a child.

For nine months they were once more blissfully happy, basking in the glow of impending parenthood as they prepared for the arrival of their first child. On the day she went into labor they were filled with elation. Finally their dream would come true and they would be a family. Her pregnancy had been perfectly normal and her labor was moving along quickly and easily. In the wee hours of the night Hermione struggled to push their child from her body and just as the clock chimed midnight Oliver Frederick Weasley slid into the world.

Perfectly formed with his round little face and shocking red hair, he was beautiful. But his cries did not fill the room as they expected, nor did he kick or wave his arms angrily at being forced from his mother’s womb. He did not pinken or stir at all. Oliver Weasley never drew a single breath. No reason was ever given for the death of their child. There was no physical abnormality, no accident of birth; it was just one of those things that sometimes happened.

Even a year later Hermione could see his beautiful face, feel the weight of him in her arms as she held him, rocking him back and forth as she cried for the boy she never got to meet. They had held him and each other until the coroner told them it was time to let go. With a kiss to the top of his head Hermione watched as a stranger carried her baby away.


Life was never going to be the same after that. Some couples find unity in their grief, but Ron and Hermione pulled apart. Their house was silent and their bed was cold. During the funeral Ron had clung to his mother while Hermione sat alone, numb to everything. She didn’t hear the words spoken at his gravesite; she could only stare at the tiny white casket being lowered into the ground and shiver as though ice water were running through her veins.


She didn’t notice all of the people in her house for the wake, she opened the door and walked straight to her bedroom, stopping only to close and lock the nursery door before crawling into their bed and crying herself to sleep. That door still remained locked, neither of them ever stepping foot into the space they had so lovingly prepared for their child.

Ron never tried to comfort her and in his defense she never tried to comfort him either. They both retreated into themselves, grieving alone for the child they both lost. They danced around one another in silence. Their few conversations were distant and impersonal. Oliver’s name was never mentioned and they never discussed their loss or made plans to try again. Their home became a tomb as silent as the grave in which their son slept.


That silence and solitude had begun to wear on Hermione. Ron had thrown himself into his job, taking on extra missions and volunteering to stand in for other aurors when they needed time off. Hermione had left her job as the ministry librarian when she discovered she was pregnant, fully intending to devote herself to raising Oliver and whatever other children they had. She had nothing to do but sit in the silence and mourn.

She had been curious about an ad posted in the Prophet seeking a librarian to arrange and catalogue an extensive personal library so she posted an owl with her resume. To her great surprise she had received an almost immediate reply that she had been hired, sight unseen, with no interview necessary. What was even more surprising was that her employer was to be Lucius Malfoy.

The ad hadn’t mentioned that little bit of information. Not that it mattered, Malfoy had paid for his crimes and from what little she had heard over the years he had kept his nose clean. Besides, she doubted that they would have much interaction with each other; he wouldn’t wish to sully himself socializing with a mudblood like her. It was a job, a project, something to keep her occupied and get her out of the house and it paid handsomely, it was just what she needed.

She posted her acceptance just before dinner and informed Mr. Malfoy that she would arrive in the morning for his expectations and to get an initial impression of the project. Now she just had to tell her husband of her plans.

“Ron?” His name almost felt foreign on her tongue it had been so long since she had spoken it. He looked up from his plate, his eyes a bit dazed and his expression confused.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I have decided to take on a freelance project, cataloguing and sorting a private library.” She said, noticing how uninterested he looked.

“Oh, well if that’s what you want to do.” He said, turning his attention back to his plate.

“It’s an extensive collection and the pay is excellent.” She said, trying to interest him to no avail.

“That’s great.” He said, pushing his food around with his fork.

“I will be working for Lucius Malfoy.” That got a reaction.

“He hired you?” Ron couldn’t believe that Lucius would be willing to hire a muggleborn.

“Yes. I am highly qualified you know.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to work for him?” He asked.

“I need this, Ron. I need something to do. It has been a year and I can’t spend the rest of my life in this house where everything reminds me of Oliver.” Her voice broke on his name.


Ron laid his fork down and fought back the urge to cry, fought down the anger that always rose when he thought of his son.


“Don’t…don’t say his name.” Ron said quietly as he pushed away from the table and stood. “Do what you have to do, Hermione.” He said, tucking his wand in his pocket and reaching for his cloak.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he turned towards the door.

“I’m on patrol tonight, don’t wait up.” With that he opened the door and stepped out into the night, leaving Hermione alone in the silence once again.