The Golden Rule and the Broken Road

Chapter One

1 April 2002

He was getting old; the first sign was the pain in his lower back when he had gotten out of bed that morning. It was his birthday; he was twenty-four today and closer to thirty than he was to eighteen.

"This sucks." He mumbled, surveying himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was still shaggy and unruly and his face was free of aging, but something felt different.

The past month had aged him considerably – that was how long she had been gone. She said they both needed to reevaluate what they meant to one another, she had taken Gideon with him and he had only received one owl since.

He didn't even know when her appointments at St. Mungo's were, it would only be a few months more until they welcomed their second child. She would know the sex by now, he was sure it was a boy but it would have been nice for her to confirm.

The first few days he had been plain angry with her for walking out, then he had tried to trace their problems back to the root, when that failed he had fallen into depression. The others came over in turns, bringing dinner and conversation. Ron had been there the night before with his son Lyle, born just under a month ago the little boy was the spitting image of Gideon and Fred had asked them to leave.

He left the bathroom shirtless, a pair of ill-fitting pajama pants hanging from his waist. The flat was a mess and Gideon's door remained tightly shut. In her letter, she had promised to bring Gideon to his birthday lunch at the Burrow, but her lack of contact since then made him uneasy.

He checked the clock on the wall, ten minutes to noon, he was running late. He dressed slowly, jeans and a loose fitting grey button up. Two minutes left until he was expected. He further pushed it off, wandering around the flat looking for a pair of trainers he knew full well Hermione had accidently thrown out several months earlier. It gave him another reason to be pissed at her; he hoped if he were pissed, he wouldn't have any more room to miss her. Missing her was unbearable.

When he finally took the floo he was fifteen minutes late and the living room was crowded awaiting his arrival. George and Angelina greeted him first, each holding an energetic toddler.

"Happy birthday Gred!" George clapped his twin on the back heartedly, "You look like hell."

Fred grumbled in response, rolling his eyes and saying, "Arse."

"Hey! Watch it in front of my children."

The rest greeted him in turn, wishing him happy birthday and sending him sympathetic looks. He was determined to take the attention of himself and a minute later, his wish was granted by a knock at the door.

Ginny, obviously aware of their guest, bustled past the others, James rested on her hip, to answer the door. She squealed with delight and pulled the visitor into view.

"DADA! DADA! DADA!" The little boy wiggled out of her arms easily and ran as fast as his shaky legs would allow him to his father, wrapping his arms around his knees.

His birthday was beginning to look up he noted as he swept the little boy up, hugging him tightly. The little boy's curly auburn hair tickled his nose as the boy cooed appreciatively at his father, rubbing his forehead against the stubble that had begun to grow in on his chin.

"Happy birthday." She whispered quietly, smiling softly in his direction.

She was thinner, too thin, and her hair was pulled away from her face. She was not nearly as big with this baby as she had been with Gideon. Then again, she had worn loose summer dresses with Gideon, nothing like her demure grey blouse and dark jeans.

The others quietly dispersed and gradually made their way out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"How've you been?" His voice was gruff and he avoided her wide eye gaze, his eyes drifting over her round belly.

She nodded, "Good. Mum is happy to have us and Gideon likes having a yard to play in. How's the shop?"

He shrugged noncommittally, setting his wiggling son down on the floor. The boy waddled happily over to a discarded toy from one of his cousins and began playing, ignorant to the tension between his parents.

"Fred, do you want to talk?"

He shook his head, "Nope, just wanna enjoy my birthday if you don't mind."

"Fred…"

"Are you gonna let me see my son from now on? Cause I could give a damn if you never want to see my face again, but you better believe I'm going to see my children."

She shrunk into herself, her eyes going wide at his outburst. She had not been expecting that sort of reaction from him.

"Of course. We can work out a custody situation that works in both our favors I'm sure. I've spoken to Percy and he's offered me a job at the ministry when I'm ready to return."

Fred snorted, "Good old Percy huh? Life wouldn't be so good for you if you weren't married to me would it?"

He was being cruel, they both knew she deserved that job but he wasn't ready to admit it, he wanted her to feel as low as he was feeling.

"Foods ready!" Molly Weasley smiled uncomfortably from the doorway, beckoning the three towards the garden.

Hermione scooped up Gideon and sidled up beside Fred on their way out, "Meet me tomorrow night for dinner, please."

"Where?"

"Up to you."

"Come to the flat."

She nodded, smiling gratefully up at him. He chose to ignore it.

He changed several times before dinner and even convinced Angelina and George to come over and help him clean. The twins undermined their efforts and eventually the conceded defeat and left the flat looking only slightly cleaner.

Eventually he settled for a few poorly cast cleaning charms and then commenced to pacing the foyer until he heard the bell ring. It was the obvious choice of course, but he had half expected her to walk right in – it was still her home after all.

"Hi."

She was wearing a white dress, black vines crawling up it from the cluster at the bottom until they thinned out at the top, a black silk bow tied above her stomach.

His breath hitched in his throat, he wish she had shown up looking haggard in sweats.

"You look nice." She did a quick survey of his outfit, smiling approvingly.

"I manage to dress myself. Where's Gideon?"

"Oh, I thought it would be better if it were just us."

He nodded, "Fine," and led her into the flat.

They sat stiffly in the sitting room, him in his favorite chair, her perched on the edge of the couch. He hadn't prepared dinner; they could go out or get carry away if she was really hungry after all.

"How've you been?"

"Why'd you leave?"

Their words overlapped one another and she blushed uncomfortably at the question.

"See I remember you asking me that before and at the time I thought the answer seemed obvious, but not anymore. Now I get it, the confusion. So tell me Hermione, why did you leave?" He was baiting her, smirking sardonically at her discomfort.

She pleaded with him, "We weren't working Fred, and you know that. I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating. I love you but it felt like love wasn't enough."

He hadn't been expecting that.

"Say something."

"I think you should leave."

"Fred, please."

"Get out and don't come back unless you are dropping off my children. Out!"

And so she left, breathing heavily and looking close to tears. A small part of him was worried about her, but the bigger part, the angry part blocked that out.

He drove his fist through their bedroom wall as he changed for bed that night, leaving his knuckles red and raw. He made no effort to fix it, leaving it there as a reminder of what she had done for him.

Living at home was stifling. The Granger's were strong supporters of schedules and kept the household running firmly on one. Mrs. Granger had gone so far as to type out a schedule for Gideon, when her mother was out Hermione had ripped it up.

Her and Fred had never wanted that for their child, the scheduled life Hermione had experienced. Being married to Fred had made her appreciate spontaneity.

The letter was heavy in her hand as she sat at the breakfast table that morning, her parents were both at work and Gideon was still asleep.

He had written one line.

I love you but I want a divorce. I'll speak to Percy. - Fred