Harry Potter 1. To The Fallen

"To the fallen"

"To the fallen and the new future they fought to reach." Everyone raised their glasses and their voices rang.

"To the fallen." Throat burning, they turned to each other and embraced, smiled or just nodded. Everyone found someone to look to and confirm their existence, precious. The whole house had been cleaned and tidied by a hyperactive Mrs Weasley; but the decorations were black. Drapes and candles and photographs on tables, shelves, walls, even the air. Everywhere reminders of the darkness that still hadn't quite left them.

Looking around at the Weasley home, Harry remembered the last time he had been here; Bill and Fleur's wedding. It seemed a life time ago, and indeed, looking around at everyone, it appeared as if several years had spent themselves in their expressions. Even as he caught her eye, cheeky and playful, from across the room, he knew that her spark was struggling against a smothering mist. Coughing and straightening up, he reminded himself not to be dragged down either. Life was here and it was his. She smiled from the distance.

It was theirs.

Ron looked over and saw his parents were together on the sofa. He hadn't seen them apart since… Tonk's mother was approaching with a bundle in her arms; how small he was, how ignorant and peaceful. Finding himself drawn in, he exchanged greetings with the broken woman and looked down on newly opened eyes. They asked him a question, to which he could not answer. Through the quiet murmurs he heard her voice, strong and firm and comforting, even from a distance. Without looking he could see her expression, soft yet unmoving; no matter what she was feeling, Hermione had this ability to control her emotions and smile through them, well, he half-grinned, except when it came to him. But his lips fell back into neutral as he began to wonder about that passionate, desperate kiss, had she been moved by the same feelings as he had been? Shaking his head minutely, suddenly conscious of the room full of people, he decided that he would have to talk to her about it. Soon. He looked back at his parents sitting quietly together, glad that they were there.

Slipping out of the backdoor, Harry left the loud warbling of the radio and mumblings of the guests behind him. Turning back briefly he smiled gratefully when he saw that she'd followed him. He led her wordlessly away from the house. Their fingers entwined, he kept on looking back, taking in her auburn locks. Breathing in the night air, he winced slightly as it was raw in his lungs; but it sharpened his mind and he stopped. They were surrounded by rushes which tickled their backs.

Noticing the drink still in his hand he raised it.

"To the fallen." Crying, she raised hers too.

"To the fallen and the future." Harry smiled gently and both dropped their cups suddenly. The liquid spilling together warmly in the cold grass.

Where was Ginny when you needed her? She knew that she was being ridiculous. She knew that one day she would look back and laugh. She caught Ron looking and both hurriedly turned away.

Then again, one day she may look back and cry.

"Hermione." How had he moved so fast? She was trapped. She turned slowly, nervous. Looking nervous himself, Ron gulped. "I think…I think we should. We should talk." He nodded to the door and she put down her drink and followed him.

The cool air seemed to sharpen his senses and his purpose.

"Hermione." She looked up expectantly, heart fluttering. Her throat was too dry to allow her to speak but it didn't matter as Ron seemed to have gathered his strength. "About before, about…you know." She moved her face a little closer, gaze trembling from his eyes to his lips and back up again as he went on.

"I love-" She never heard the end of his sentence.

At least not that night.


	2. Our Future

Our Future

"But Hermione!" Both of the boys looked at her pleadingly.

"I thought we'd done enough for now!" Ron wailed, his hands outstretched to her, in an appeal for mercy.

"Yeah! Can't we have a holiday?" Harry finished. The boys were sat at the kitchen table, plates still left from their interrupted breakfast, with the girls standing up, Hermione looming over them and her accomplice leaning on the kitchen counter smiling. Unable to stop herself, Ginny started giggling as Hermione put her hands on her hips and raised that famous eyebrow. The boys groaned and held their heads as she began in a loud voice just to aggravate their pounding temples.

"It is extremely important that we don't waste time when it comes to deciding our futures."

"Not a day? Morning? One minute?" The boy's faces fell as each request was smiled at.

By the afternoon the kitchen was flooded with leaflets all still yelling about their particular attributes. But as Hermione promptly pointed out, among the colourful flying and particularly sharp bit of paper, none of them were fully qualified. Percy managed to steal Harry and Ron's mirth at this, however, by informing them of a Ministry catch-up scheme to essentially crystallise the last year of Hogwarts into a summer. With their summer taken away, the boys were finally broken, muttering about broken dreams of playing Quidittch or relaxing.

So they worked. Neither Harry nor Ron would admit it, but pouring through books and repeating spells endlessly felt good. With no time to slow down and think, they found long periods of time had passed since they thought that time had stopped altogether. There was so much to do in contrast to shuffling aimlessly around awkward silences and stuffy rooms. After the horror of the past year, it reminded them of better times and even Ron was applying himself. Without them even knowing it, they had completed the course and those bound pieces of parchment opened the world to them.

No one was surprised when Hermione applied for a job at the Ministry or when she was accepted. She was nervous, in awe of the authority and austerity in those hallowed halls, but determined to change what needed to be changed_. _Thankfully, she got on well with the other new employees, after begrudgingly following Ron's advice of holding back her criticisms and superior knowledge, whilst presenting herself as a worthy member of the Department of Magical Creatures to the head Ministers. One or two of the others may have made themselves rivals, if Hermione hadn't bridged gaps and made them see sense. Ginny could see that her friend had definitely outgrown school ground behaviour.

Harry, with just less than exceptionable grades – the lack of scar pain did wonders for his academic efforts – enrolled in Aurora training. It was, in all, everything he had imagined it to be; hard and rewarding. Within his first two patrols he had bagged three rogue Death Eaters and a few accomplices. Deepening the legend had been a fear of his, but when the hype in the office had died down, everyone relaxed and he was accepted as one of the group.

The third member of the trio, however, was less easy to place. Even had he been at the height of confidence, the Quidittch head-hunter would still have advised against a professional career; the Ministry was definitely not the place for him and with no particular passion teaching seemed out of the question as well. Secretly delving into career leaflets whilst everyone else continued with their lives took up most of Ron's time, and he was beginning to worry when the perfect solution came up.

It was Bill who suggested it. He came to the little brother, who was hastily stuffing something into his pocket, one evening and mentioned that George had been hard-pressed looking for help at the shop with Lee Jordan gone off travelling. With nothing else to do, Ron had agreed to talk to George about it, thinking that it would be good to do for a while.

So with everyone placed, things began to settle.

That's when the trouble started.


	3. Trouble

Trouble

"So soon?" Staring into the distance briefly, Hermione chewed her lip slowly. What an opportunity. It was perfect, it really was. The job was like something out of a dream; liaising with foreign ministries to try and reform the ancient and biased magical laws for the whole of Europe. It was the opportunity she never thought would have been possible, hundreds of newly achievable possibilities speeding around her ignited mind. Her face fell. But the office was abroad. She would have to spend at least a year or two out there. The thought of being separated from her friends, her family, Ron… Shaking her head a little she looked up at her boss and apologised, taking up the offer to think about it. She got up, shook hands with him and walked to the fireplace. "Upperton Road!"

It had only been a week after the celebration and remembrance at the Burrow that she'd started renting her little flat on Upperton Road just within in the centre of London, one of the many four-storey Edwardian style houses lined up opposite a leafy park and down the road from a busy high street. She adored the area and every time she looked out the window lamented the lack of time she'd had to explore it properly. On only one occasion had she and Ron walked around the park on a sunny afternoon, holding hands, a small but exciting gesture – they'd both been a little giddy and ridiculously giggly that day. Stepping out of the fire, she brushed herself down a little and cleaned up the rug again, sighing as she remembered she still hadn't yet put an ash-protector spell around the fireplace, she dumped her things on the table. Clearing her throat she thought she should check the mail, but sat down at the table instead, lowering her head into her hands gratefully.

Wow. What a choice. To go and do her dream job, fulfil her higher purpose? Or to stay with the man of her dreams amongst true friends and a career that wasn't bad at all. Was there a middle way?

Gulping, she remembered that Ron was coming round after work. On cue, she heard the flames in the fire roar and she quickly tried to compose herself. As soon as she saw him she felt her stomach flip. Would the sight of him, stumbling slightly as he brushed himself down ever cease to melt her a little? How could she leave? She rose to greet him, they embraced and he kissed her briefly on the lips. Smiling up at his grin, Hermione knew that she couldn't leave, not when she had finally reached where she wanted to be, with him. With that silly boy she'd waited for throughout school and the war. That goofy grin and warm eyes, soft, pale skin and fiery red- She mentally shook herself, listening to his murmured greeting and melting again.

After another quick kiss, Hermione started whipping up a light dinner, as Ron had already nicked some food from George, and Ron watched her work in the little kitchen, every so often offering to help, both of them knowing he'd never be given anything other to do than set the table. He was trusted that much. Summoning the cutlery he smiled a little, considering this fact. He twisted his mouth slightly as everything floated slowly into place – he'd learnt not to summon sharp objects too fast the hard way – and thought about learning some basic cooking spells, to be able to cook for her. His heart lifted impossibly high at the thought of living with her. He knew it wasn't possible now, George still needed him and it was still early in the relationship anyway. But he definitely wanted to do it. Looking up as she walked in with the food, he smiled broadly, he just wanted this.

After the small talk and catching up about their days, they fell silent, Ron enjoying the food and the company, Hermione more relaxed, but still not entirely at ease, ideas and strategies whirling round her head. She knew that she definitely didn't want to be separated from him. She knew he'd instantly tell her to go, despite the possible strain it might put on their relationship, but she wanted to see if he could come too. Or even if he did stay, she was sure they could work something out. She just had to work out a balance, plans… Unable to think of a line of conversation to lead up to it, she spoke bluntly.

"So I was wondering if you'd thought about…your career."

"My career?" He laughed a little, not looking up from his plate, as if that was a ridiculous idea. She didn't move at all, her expression fixed as a constant, persistent question. He looked up at her and saw this, chewing his food almost cautiously as he considered. "Well, I don't know. I mean," He glanced down at the table briefly before finding her questioning face again. "George still needs me in the shop, I don't know for how long, but I'm guessing for a while more at least…" He shrugged, an apologetic expression on his face as he realised that it wasn't the answer she had hoped for. "Haven't really thought…" He trailed off, the atmosphere suddenly cold.

"George, of course." She spoke to herself. He couldn't leave as soon as she would have to. Gulping again, she changed the subject, didn't bring it up again, or tell him about the offer.

"Oh I hate these things!" Distracted from finding Ron's uncomfortable fidgets endearing, Hermione merely hummed absently as her eyes wondered round the room. Blinking herself out of her brief reverie, she turned to him and registering his mouth twisting in an awkward compression she released the breath she'd been holding onto. Taking his hand and squeezing it gently, she looked up at him and said comfortingly, but firmly.

"Come on." With a small grumble, he followed her into the Great Hall at their newly-repaired school. Seeing their old friends again in Hogwarts again, mingling, laughing in those cherished halls relaxed Ron a little. He forced away bad memories of a similar scenario of the decorations, the formal dress, the dancing, or lack of it where he had been concerned. Everyone was here now, all his friends. Glancing down at his hand firmly in Hermione's, he thought with a smile, _she's here now_. _She's here with me. _Hermione looked back at him and seeing that he'd relaxed she smiled with him before having to turn away quickly to cover her confusion. _Don't think about this now. _They joined a large group of people from their year and began talking animatedly.

It was only when they reached her door at the end of the night did she realise that she still hadn't broken the news. Looking up into his slightly heavy eyes, she wavered, wondering if this was the right time. Wondering if any time would be the right time.

"Alright?" She relaxed her face at his concern, nodding and sighing she kissed him lightly, smiling a little at the taste of champagne on his lips. Drawing back, she drank in his tipsy smile before turning away to open the door. Turning back, she saw him wobble a little and knew that he probably shouldn't apparate.

"Come on, you can use my fire." Blushing as she saw his mischievous grin she laughed, taking his hand again. "I don't even want to know how that could possibl-" She was halted by his hand, gently cupping her face, his face suddenly very still and intense. Staring into his darkened eyes, Hermione forgot everything, everything but him. She leaned up and pushed her lips over his and they stood still in the middle of the hallway, wrapping their arms around each other as they deepened the kiss. Hands busy, she stepped back to lead him further into the flat and soon her back was bumping against the door to her bedroom. Breaking off for a moment he tilted his head, staring intently at her face. Despite his slight intoxication he was asking her the question and she breathed. Finally something that was certain. She nodded, half-grinning and lead him in completely.

The deadline was on Monday. It was Saturday, a rare weekend off, and Hermione agreed to join Harry and Ron in going to Hogsmeade, just needing to get away from the office and her little flat and maybe get a better perspective on the decision. The Hog's Head was just as she remembered it: loud laughter and friendly shouting assaulted her ears as characters jostled and drank together with such energy. Spotting her friend, she sat down, noticing on her way that the boys were at the bar. Sighing, she greeted the red-haired listener and began to unload.

"My boss offered me another job, to work with the European Courts." Ginny smiled.

"Wow! That's great! Already?" Hermione nodded breathlessly, her excitement sparked again by her friend's enthusiasm. "Wow! You don't waste time! You'll be getting your equality laws through in no time!" Hermione bathed for a moment more in achievement before sighing and gathering her strength to reveal the bad news, but Ginny interrupted her. "Wait till I tell Harry!"

"No!" Hermione stopped her immediately. Seeing her friend's confusion, she knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Ron doesn't know yet."

"You haven't-" Ginny's loud question was instantly cut off again by Hermione's wide-eyed shushing motion. They both glanced back at the bar to see the boys talking to some guys from their year, way out of ear-shot. "But why?" Sighing, Hermione ran her hand over her sleeked back hair. Ron's voice chiding her for taming it rang in her head randomly. _I liked it when it was wild. _Blinking, she breathed heavily and hoped that Ginny would agree with her reasoning. What followed was their thoughts running across the other's.

"Well, I'd love to take it, but it's abroad and I know already that Ron wouldn't want to come too-"

"Wait. How do you know if you haven't-"

"Because there'd be nothing for him to do-" Seeing the sister's face she quickly explained. "Not that Ron couldn't do anything he wanted, look I know that better than anybody, if he put his mind to it he really could be an Auror like Harry or fly for England even, whatever! But the point is, working at the shop with George is all he's really shown any interest in, the only thing he has confidence in doing right now." Her eyes managed to get the rest across and Ginny gently worried her lip as she took in the dilemma. Hermione began to speed up as she went on.

"If I tell him he'll want me to go, he'll want to come and then be conflicted because he'll feel like he has to choose when coming with me is never really an option…" Dropping her head a little, she sighed again, she was doing that a lot lately.

"You have to tell him."

"Uh oh!" The pair jumped as a joking exclamation came from behind them. "What is Hermione hiding?" Blood rushed from Hermione's face as she saw it rise in her friend's; Ginny cleared her throat and reluctantly turned to her brother and covered relatively well.

"Some guy from Hermione's office stinks something awful and doesn't know if she should say anything." Smiling, Ron and Harry sat down again with quite a few drinks in their hands. Harry tilted his head sympathetically and spoke sensibly, though still grinning from a joke he and Ron had just shared.

"You should tell him." Turning her head to Ron nervously, Hermione was relieved to see him smiling, eyes unsuspecting.

"Yeah Hermione, you don't want to keep secrets." He laughed again. "'Specially not ones like that!"

Ron sighed, rubbing his hair vigorously; something was up with Hermione. The disappointment about his lack of foresight about his career, the way he'd caught her looking at him after that Ball, as if guilty… and the day before when she'd been talking to Ginny, seeing Ginny's expression. He shook his head; he and Hermione needed to talk. That was all he knew, but he was certain of it, so he sent her note, asking to meet up at one of their favourite haunts. He sighed again, hoping that the friendly atmosphere would help keep their conversation stay away from their usual 'discussion' style. A pit in his stomach widened every time he thought about her, he wanted to know what was troubling her. Touching his stomach gingerly he hoped it wasn't anything about him.

The red-head screwed her face up. Herbology had never been her strongest subject but this year she really regretted taking it. To begin with, none of her close friends were taking it, so although she knew people in the lessons, they didn't really talk all too much; not that talking was permitted, the plants requiring all of their wary attention. It was even more difficult to keep from injury when one was not thinking about the task on hand. But the red-head couldn't help it; she kept on thinking about Hermione's possible new job. Of course she should take it. But where would that leave her brother? Sighing, she shook her head as she considered her hapless brother, things just always went wrong for him, no matter how hard he or she – in advising him – tried. After years of waiting, her friends' happy ending may not be so happy. She yelped, her hand jerking back from a Snapper Tree, frowning in between winces at the massive leaf which had bit her. Through her pain she thought she saw it grinning. She cursed and put her friends out of her mind.

"Bad news." Was all the answer Harry received when he asked what was going on, the office was buzzing with fear, everyone zipping around, ducking under low flying paper airplanes – what was happening? Several familiar faces flew out from the crowd but where gone, no clues but tense expressions and the shaking of heads as they saw his question. It was late in the night but almost everyone was in, rushing around.

Suddenly a member of his team flew from the throng, looking straight at him

"Meeting room 4, now!" She only looked back for a moment as Harry called after her the number one question in the height of his frustration. Her reply chilled him.

"Death Eaters."

It was drizzling when she banged out of the pub.

"Hermione come back!" The street was empty and quiet except for the rain and his shout.

"Leave me alone. I can't even think right now, let alone talk to you!" He was still jogging to catch up with her, how could she travel so fast without running?

"Hermione! All I did was ask what was wro-" Spinning around her frustration loosened her tongue and it just all came out.

"I got a job offer." She spat. Neither moved for a heartbeat, the evening's warmth draining as soft droplets trickled down their heads. He breathed, looking a little baffled, but pleased.

"That's great!" Her head shot up in surprise and she took in his reaction. He was confused certainly, but smiling tentatively, real pride in his voice. Begrudgingly she realised that he didn't know all of it. So she told him. Her explanation paled him. "Two years abroad? How…what?"

"Does it really matter? Does any of it matter?" He recoiled a little at the bitterness in her voice and his lip curled.

"Of course it matters!" There was another moment of the rain. "I mean, you should take it. I think if nothing else, you should definitely take-"

"Will you come with me?" He stopped at her fast, desperate question. He understood her urgency and wanted nothing more to please her. But he couldn't. Lowering his eyes, he gulped before looking up again, stepping towards her.

"We can still-" She stepped back and interrupted him.

"I need you." She sounded so bare, so fragile. "I just… I don't think I could do it without you." Frozen by this admission, Ron took a moment to process it. Hermione stared brokenly at the floor. She had spent so long going over and over the possibilities in her head, and it had all got too much. All she wanted right at this minute, all she needed, was him to say that he needed her too. She needed to hear him say that he loved her, to hug her and take all her pain away, if only for a moment. A drop of rain ran down his nose, he wiped it absent-mindedly as he laughed suddenly. Hermione shot her head up, rankled.

"Hermione you're the most driven, intelligent, amazing person I have ever met! You can do anything! And since when have you needed me?" She had started to calm down before she heard his throw away remark, that automatic dig at himself; it angered her.

"Don't do that! Don't you dare-"

"Do what?"

"Assume that I don't need you to do things because I do! No you listen!" She stopped him from interrupting. "All through school I needed you and Harry, I was miserable before I became friends with you two. We supported each other and helped and when we were looking for the horcruxes…" She breathed deeply, slowing down her words, emphasising them. "I fell apart without you." She called out to him but he didn't hear her silent call. He didn't see her need for him to echo her sentiments, he thought it impossible that she could be weakened by a lack of that reassurance; he thought she knew that; shaking his head he stepped back, as if to look at her properly.

"I…" The fragility in her eyes made him falter, a hurt cultivating that he wanted to comfort, a doubt he had to reassure. "I know you can do this Hermione. You deserve this chance and you should do it." She said nothing, her face now impassive, waiting. "I can't, I can't come with you but that doesn't mean…" He stopped again as she wrapped her arms around herself, face screwed up as if she were about to cry. He called her name softly and walked up to her, arms ready to encircle and support her. Feeling rejected, she mistook his gesture.

"No!" She pushed his chest, hurt shaking in her eyes, anger quivering her mouth. "You're right! I don't need you or your pity!" Frustrated, he spat.

"What the hell do you want woman?"

"Not you!" The rain hardened suddenly. It pounded on her head and shoulders, coating her face with slides of water; draining down her cheeks, clotting her eyelashes and dripping over her trembling lips. In that moment, he could see her so clearly, that picture of her vibrant face amongst the greyest of greys would stay with him for a long time after.

Without a word she disapparated. The crack broke him in two and he was left pale, speechless and shivering.


	4. Trouble Continued

Trouble continued…

As soon as George saw his little brother's face, he knew something was wrong. Knowing that he'd just come from a drink with Hermione, he sighed, what was it now? Coming away from wiping the counter as he usually did in an almost obsessive way after closing, George dared ask bluntly what was wrong. Ron almost didn't notice him, eyes wide and unseeing. It was only with a hand on his shoulder stopping him that he looked away from the middle distance and into concerned eyes.

"Come on, I'll get you a drink."

_He doesn't want me. He doesn't love me._ She sniffed, sitting slumped on her bed, and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. She mumbled to herself.

"At least not the way I love him." She had regretted her outburst; of course she did want him. But looking around her empty flat, she drew her arms around herself again and thought bitterly that if he truly did love her, he'd have chased after her. He'd have come. Another tear curled down from her right eye and down her cheek. Why did she feel so defenceless? What was she doing? Jumping up she said to the emptiness. Sniffing hard and wiping her face aggressively, she pulled out her suitcase from under her bed.

"So she said something she didn't mean, why-" Ron gulped down another drink of Firewhisky and protested to George's analysis.

"She did mean it!" George wet his lips, shifting forward on the sofa to better make his point. The two were sitting in the back room with a single bright candle lighting their tired faces, George knowing that Ron shouldn't be alone until he saw sense.

"But look Ron, she said just moments before that she needed you, it doesn't make sense that she doesn't-"

"No it does, don't you see?" George fell silent, seeing something new in his brother's eyes. It was different from self-pity and hurt, what was it? "She thinks she needs me because she thinks she needs _someone_. Not me specifically, just someone to be there, someone to help her. She said that she was miserable before she made friends with me and Harry, because she was alone." As he had been speaking, the heel of his hand had been cleaning up his face, now his head was trying to reign in those expressive features. His mouth was being straightened and brows tried to smooth as the eyes tried to blink away the re-growing moisture threatening them. "She thinks that she needs someone to help her, to make her stronger I don't know! That's why she wants me to come, not… It's not because she loves me, or, wants me." He let his head drop and rubbed his forehead wearily, losing the fight to control himself. "She can do it all on her own, she doesn't need anyone, especially not me."

"Bullshit! Of course she loves you! It could take any idiot to see that!" The little brother shook his head stubbornly. "She just said something she didn't mean."

"No, I don't believe that."

"Ron, look at me." A moment of defiance was held before the exhausted man looked up. "She loves you. Trust me." Tentatively, the older put a hand on the other's shoulder and they looked at each other for a moment before pulling into a hug. George rubbed his brother's back soothingly. "Trust me, she does."

"Hermione?" The tentative question hung in the heavy air. Closing the front door behind her, wand out, Ginny breathed. Why had the door been open? Taking step after cautious step she edged further into the flat, ears straining. What had happened? A muffled thud made her jump, fingers tightening their grip and she shuffled forward in battle stance until she came to the living room where she saw… She saw the suitcase and horror filled her. _No._ A bushy-haired figure almost bowled her over as it rushed past. Ginny took her friend's arm, brows creasing as she tried to decipher the mumbles. The distressed creature looked up into Ginny's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I have to go now I can't-"

"Hermione!" Pulling her arm away, forcefully, her friend gathered her things, backing away slightly.

"I have to go, I'll come back and explain everything it's just right now I need to go. Ginny, I'll come back, I'll write I-" She looked terrible, tired and frantic. Ginny reached out but her friend disapparated.

A sharp crack woke the older brother. His eyes flickered open and he dragged his stiff body up from his awkward position on the old sofa, frowning at and prodding his brother's still sleeping form.

"Ron!" The shout widened his eyes, made him leap up and run into the shop. He almost ran into Ginny. "Where is he?" Before he could answer, a sleepy voice replied from behind him and Ginny rushed past him to the figure stirring on the coach. George turned around to watch the scene curiously. His sister was crouched next to a grumpy looking Ron and her expression told George everything. He cringed, knowing what she was about to say.

"She… she left." The two worried siblings stared at the third, who sat frozen, his hand mid-way to his head. Despite his state, he knew exactly what she'd meant. After an awful pause he tried to get up and walk away but Ginny reached out and touched his shoulder. Animated by her touch he shrugged her off, face contorted by the pain he couldn't fully express. Her stomach clenching at his hurt she let him go and he half-ran upstairs, slamming the door behind him. George and Ginny looked at each other, cringing at the sounds of bangs and finally, Ron's pain vocalised.

_She's gone. _

Heart throbbing and heavy, he squeezed his eyes as hard as he could, hiding them with his hands. His whole body felt full of cold, dank water, weighing his limbs down, his chest felt so heavy it was suffocating.

_She's left._

_You fool. You thought that she loved you; thought that you were worthy of her love._ _You with your 'emotional range of a teaspoon', your 'thick skull', your complete patheticness. _

_She left you._

Ron jerked his head up from his hands, eyes swelled with hurt and self-loathing. How could he have expected her to put up with all his many faults? She was strong, intelligent, beautiful and compassionate. What was he?

Ignorant.

Simple.

Selfish.

Hermione would later write to Harry to apologise for not saying goodbye. The offer came so suddenly and she had to literally leave as soon as she accepted. The change would do her good and the post abroad was only for a year, she needed space to think and this was an amazing career opportunity. The day after she'd left, she had returned and waited outside the shop for half an hour before her schedule had made her have to leave. There would be time to write, to leave a note, to come back after she'd settled and thought things through.

Ron brooded for a while; faces and voices swirling around in his head. For a while he only had the strength to blink. But then he found enough courage to hold an ink-filled quill over blank parchment. What to write? Well, he guessed that all he could hope for was to know where they stood. If they could ever go back to how it was. He wasn't fit to be her boyfriend, but they'd been friends for years. Despite the hurt he felt, he still wanted to keep in contact. He needed to stay in contact. So he wrote honestly, hoping to receive an honest reply.

A couple of weeks later, on 4th October, he put his 63rd attempt in with the Ministry post going to Hermione's office; having been told by Percy that this was the only certain way that a professional person like Hermione would consider reading it.

About three years after he sent that letter, Ron finally accepted that she was never going to reply.


	5. Three Years With Ron

Three Years With Ron 

Ron continued to work at Weasley's Wheezes but when Lee Jordon returned from abroad, he found himself needed less and less. He never did have any business or creative acumen, but he didn't mind the mundane sorting because it was brilliant at occupying his mind. He could clear his head of all bitter or nagging thoughts and delve into the hundreds of boxes and labels. His enjoyment of these tasks was augmented quite unsuspectedly when – in a hilarious prank – George hid Ron's wand, forcing him to stack and sort the boxes by hand. At first it was infuriating, the work was so slow and strenuous; however, after a few days with no let-up in George's hilarity, the little brother had found a rhythm. When finally the wand was returned he continued stacking boxes by hand, finding the exercise lifting to his mood, which was prone to dips these days.

Harry had asked her nervously, a spare key in his hand and her hand in the other. Without a thought she smiled widely and had hugged him so fiercely that the key had fallen. Laughing, they had both scrabbled for it and when finding it, kissed happily.

The muggles started buying witches' hats and other Halloween related things and Mr Weasley reported the annual increase in bewitched objects being sold to unsuspecting muggles. On that particular night Ron had been in the Ministry on an errand for the shop, there'd been a problem with the normal exits so he'd had to use the visitor's entrance. The street was packed. Struggling through hoards of little laughing ghouls, he gritted his teeth. A little girl with frizzy hair and large teeth was giggling with another little witch. But glancing back a second time, he saw that actually, there was little resemblance to a distant memory he had held onto. Hurrying home he locked himself in and leaving the lights off, he slid down the wall and wept.

Needless to say, Christmas was terrible for Ron. Hermione had scheduled to come and visit on Christmas Eve. Although Ginny had told him, in very clear terms, that he should under no circumstances be absent from the Burrow between noon and five, the time in which Hermione had reluctantly agreed to visit, he had managed to convince himself that she would not want him to be there. It had been a few months already and still no reply to his painstakingly written letter. He tried to tell himself that it would be less uncomfortable for her if he were absent, but as the time ticked nearer, he found that it was all fear for himself. Fear that he'd suffer another blow. He didn't go, ignoring George's disapproving looks, and at five o'clock sharp Ginny stormed into the shop. Wincing, he held up his hands about to explain but was thrown off guard when she flung herself at him and crushed him in a desperate hug. She never told him that the reason Hermione had cancelled at the last minute was because she'd mentioned Ron's expected presence, but her hug said it all.

After that, he had completely refused to talk about the missing person, at least any farther than say that he had recovered and wasn't thinking about her anymore. Nobody really believed that but for Christmas he made an extra effort to appear happy, for his mother's sake. She was still shaken about Fred and although it was less uncomfortable sharing memories of him, it was still uncomfortable. So he smiled and drank and opened his presents with as much gusto as always, not feeling any of it penetrate the darkness.

Ginny worried, now and then, when she had a moment between being happy with Harry and her family. She would look over and see the falseness in her brother's smiles, and she'd worry. She wished Hermione had come, even if they'd argued it would have been better than this. And anyway, she missed her closest friend.

Not a week later, she found her hollow brother standing alone, watching the last of the fireworks. Enough was enough, if things couldn't go the way everyone had wanted, then they just had to go another way. Joining him and staying silent for a few moments, she offered him a penny.

"I can't live without her." To his surprise and then annoyance, his sister laughed.

"I hadn't noticed that you'd died!" Frowning, he accepted her challenge to his dramatic statement and listened sulkily to her go on. "You have been living just fine without her."

"I haven't been living, just…surviving." Kissing him on the cheek she smiled.

"Then live." Watching her walk away, he mouthed her words. After a while he looked back up into the flashing sky.

"Fine." He rose his glass to the fading sparks and made three resolutions.

To find his own home.

To listen more to the people around him.

And to make something of his life.

Stan Sturnpike never was the same after the war and eventually his old job as Night Bus Conductor opened up. This was almost into five months of the three years being summarised and, finding increasing amounts of spare time on his hands, Ron shrugged and applied. He walked into the job and split the week with the other applicant. He worked some days from dusk till dawn and for others did shifts during the day, and although it took time to adjust to the strange sleep pattern he had to adopt, he found that he enjoyed the low-skilled role. He was recognised by most of the customers and had already struck up friendships with the regulars at two and a half weeks in.

It was nice to have the routine of ferrying many little old ladies to their various grandchildren's houses and his vow to listen to people more paid off when the hub of gossip that he found himself in distracted him almost entirely from the letter. The days and nights he worked tired him out, but the three days –and nights– that he didn't work were dangerous. He would go on errands for the shop, visit his mother, take a quickly growing Teddy to the park and generally try to keep himself busy. But sometimes he would forget to distract himself and he'd remember everything. His mood usually spiralled as he realised how long it had been since she had…well, said nothing. After New Year's he had thrown himself into doing things almost continuously and had successfully avoided Ginny's further concerned lectures.

With two jobs, Ron was able to afford his own place. After looking round a few places he found a nice little flat in a Muggle suburb. The building was owned by Magic Properties Ltd and looked no different from the other grey city flats; square and plain it welcomed his mess. He covered his bedroom in the familiar orange posters, transferred most of that mess into the living room, left burnt pans perpetually soaking in the sink and generally let it feel like home.

He didn't learn to cook.

There was a nice park nearby where he'd take Freddy sometimes and a chip shop for when he wasn't forced to family dinner or when he had no biscuits left. The little old lady in the basement apartment had questioned him incessantly but smilingly every time she had seen him. He made sure he remembered her stories, although the frequency in which he heard them made them hard to forget.

In comparison, the young woman upstairs hardly acknowledged him at all. She was a jogger, every morning he had an early shift and every evening she would come back sweaty and panting, checking her pulse and her watch. It wasn't until two months after he had moved in that they even spoke to each other, and even that was about running. Letting her in after she had forgotten her key, he commented on her regime and she recommended it as a good way to clear the head.

After a week, he was running round the park twice, or maybe three times if he had the energy as he wasn't very fit, in the evening. Sometimes he and girl, Sam, would run together, they didn't talk much, just ran, clearing their heads.

Harry was relishing his hectic job, which was so demanding even with the Death Eater case dropped; but despite his business, Harry still managed to go for the odd drink with his best friend.

"She looks nice, why don't you go over?" Something along those lines was always suggested to the wallowing friend. Harry giving Ron that look which the latter usually shrugged off. Despite his resilience to Harry's not-so-subtle hints to start afresh, Ron was also highly resistant to hearing of news of the departed one. Whenever Harry would mention even the country in which she was located his friend would immediately change the subject with such force that Harry always backed down.

Four months after Ron became Night Bus Conductor, Fleur had her beautiful silver-haired baby and all the family went to visit the 'little angel', as Mrs Weasley lovingly described her. Ginny's smiles were a lot deeper for the next few days after visiting, Harry chose not to try and divine the meaning for that.

It was whilst visiting them at St Mungo's that Ron had remembered accidently visiting the mental health ward in 5th year; the memory of Gilderoy Lockhart's condition brought on fresh guilt. Reluctantly, he wandered to the ward and went in; Lockhart was almost exactly the same as he had remembered him, cheery, narcissistic and with no memory of Ron at all. But of course, happy to meet a fan.

It was after chatting to one of the nurses, who was supposedly on her break but had to watch over the patients, that he got the impression that the staff were overworked with the simple job of keeping the patients company and that there were not enough nurses to constantly supervise them. The nurse mentioned a "companion" programme where underage or unemployed wizards could sit with the patients and keep them occupied and safe whilst the nurses could continue with more technical jobs. Unfortunately the programme was poorly funded and no one seemed to want to do it voluntarily.

The nurse was so nice and Lockhart looked so lost that Ron thought, as he walked away with a leaflet and timetable, that it would be a nice thing to do for a while.

Two years into the three crept along and Ron found himself still doing the odd shift at Weasley's Wheezes stacking boxes, still working as the Night Bus Conductor, still jogging round the same park, still working as a voluntary worker at the mental health ward. During that time, whilst never consciously considering the thought of reconciliation with Hermione, Ron had excelled himself with his listening and training in nuance. The combined listening to the Night Bus customers and the mental health patients strengthened his powers of deduction, coming to know many people well increased his sensitivity to changes in their behaviour. This skill was useful in predicting outbursts in the patients and really listening to their anecdotes and details about the Night Bus customers' lives reinforced the idea that there was a world outside himself.

Secondarily, all his observations kindled an interest in mental health. The friendly nurse who had encouraged him to join was more than happy enough to point out textbooks and papers on the subject, which Ron found a mixed bag. Interesting subject, dull way of learning about it. Going back to the nurse, he was pointed in the direction of many other nurses and mental health doctors who told him their views on issues. It was in chatting to several different mental health specialists, who were more than happy to relate their success stories and the merits of their own personal methods, that Ron met Melissa.

Harry got back late one night to find an eager red-head waiting for him. The application reply had come. It was written all over her face.

"I got it!" The pair jumped into each other, laughing and, in the case of the new Leicester Tiger's Quidditch Team player, squealing. The black hair ball applauded very enthusiastically, knowing the gruelling process had taken its toll on his little love. They hugged again and both closed their eyes in excitement and bliss.

Melissa, was a patient in the temporary mental health ward; mentally and physically abused by her boyfriend, she had entered a surreal state of mind. One minute completely coherent and cheery, the next scared and reclusive. Her volatile emotions were a direct symptom of the abuse and her refusal to acknowledge the events fed the flames. Her doctor had been talking to Ron about extreme mental state fluctuations and had used her as an example. As both their shifts had ended, they visited her.

It was the time between Christmas and New Year and decorations were hung about all over the ward. Ron first saw the girl as a sparky gossip, her brown curls bounced underneath a bright party hat, she was giggling with another patient before abruptly tailing off into a blank stare. Her doctor was called away and, feeling unable to leave the poor girl lying so passively, Ron sat down next to her. Feeling a little stupid, but with some confidence gathered from his years' experience, he began talking about anything that came into his head. She must have been around the same age as him, not a teenager but not quite a woman; her brown eyes stared into a misty past and he could see scars faded but still lingering on her skin. After a few minutes of his random talking she turned her head and began, with little emotion at first and then steadily more feeling, to respond, and they began having a normal conversation. The doctor returned and was stunned, usually her blank phases lasted hours and yet Ron had managed to coax her into a normal state within minutes. He insisted that Ron visit Melissa regularly and exchanging a smile with her, Ron had to agree.

Throughout the remaining year, Ron was there for her. He popped in every time he worked at the hospital and stayed with her when she grew distant or scared. Within weeks he got to know the bright mind and kind heart of that bruised girl. With him by her side, she made fast progress and at the start of spring she was allowed to move out of the hospital. He was there to help her rehabilitate into the outside world, set up protections against her ex-boyfriend, organised a flat-warming and even welcomed her into his home when her ex grew more violent. She still needed regular check-ups and medication; they travelled to the hospital together and she sometimes came with him to the permanent mental health ward to chat to Lockhart. In return for all his kindness, she encouraged his attempts to learn more about mental health problems and treatments; she often read texts with him and they made sense of them together. The constructive learning helped the both of them but Melissa really supported his sudden thirst for knowledge, and it was she who suggested that he took a course in Basic Psychiatric Theory. So that after a summer of precursory reading and brief lectures by medics, Ron walked into the course fairly confident and eager to learn.

Despite Mrs Weasley's hopes, the two's relationship never strayed further than friendship; even though he acknowledged her beauty and keen wit, he could not draw up any romantic feelings about her. She thanked him copiously for his kindness without ever lingering her eyes in his. A few weeks into autumn, after living with Ron for half a year she felt ready to move on when she realised that the weight she had been steadily gaining was un-related to the Weasley Summer Barbeques.

"Pregnant?" Ron asked uncertainly. She nodded blankly, as unsure on how to feel about it as he was. She anticipated his next question and shivered.

"It's his." They both knew who she meant. She began to cry bitterly and Ron felt a pit open in his stomach; why didn't she tell him how badly she had been hounded by her ex? The pit filling with anger, he wanted to hunt down the unspeakably evil demon and… coming back to his senses, he saw her tears and he sighed. She murmured bitter thoughts of coping alone and anger melting into defiance against the injustice, he hugged her close.

"You're not alone, never alone."

And so it was that three years since Hermione had left for pastures new, Ron, formerly a slouching, brooding and self-pitying mess had grown into the physically fit, empathetic and inquisitive young man that Hermione met on her return on that cold Christmas Eve.


	6. Three Years With Hermione

Three Years With Hermione

It would be unfair to say that Hermione forgot about her friends in England. She wrote to Ginny when she could, and often talked to Harry via the fire when discussing Ministry issues or catching up on family events. She had actively resisted talking and even thinking about the third person that she unconsciously missed. It had been extremely difficult in the beginning, especially being thrown in at the deep end. Almost every night after another hectic and frustrating day she'd break into tears in her little apartment, bigger and emptier than her previous one. She missed everyone so badly and was so eager to return to visit at Christmas. It had only been a few months but not physically seeing them for that long had taken its toll on her. But the night before Christmas Eve, Ginny had mentioned casually that _he _was going to come. Ashamed of herself, Hermione found herself unable to go. She sent some empty excuse and spent the day crying in her bed. He hadn't made any attempt to contact her, he hadn't made any effort, he didn't give a shit. She flung herself into her work after that, and as it got easier she began to enjoy it too much to brood. At least, that's what she told herself.

Within the first few weeks she had proved herself equal to the legend. Strictly professional, sharply witty but also friendly and giving. She made enemies due to her beauty and all round excellence but made more friends due to her warm nature. It was early on that she had decided to extend her stay for over a year, not that she broached that with the Ministry till near the deadline. The best part of that decision came from the silence from a particular someone, and her relationship with two of her colleagues in particular.

The first was a woman with a similar interest in Magical Creature's Rights who, on hearing Hermione's plans, had made special efforts to become acquainted. Miranda had the ability to astonish. She could reel off facts about any historical event, knew the legal system inside out and had almost more faith in books than Hermione. She also shared her new colleague's warmth and friendliness. The two instantly became friends and spent a lot of time in and out of the office, working on their projects and having fun in the local bars. Miranda had been in the city for a few months and already knew the best bars and parks.

As much as Hermione loved Miranda, there was someone else in the office who stole her heart. It was almost half a year after Hermione had arrived when she had her first conversation with Walter. He was her work superior and only popped into the office now and then. Tall, handsome, quick witted, funny and with every woman in the office reeling off his achievements and attributes whenever his name was mentioned, he had hardly escaped Hermione's notice. The move had been about her, so she hadn't ever willingly thought of her romantic past but then again she hadn't ever willingly thought of any future romance. She had thrown herself into work and was enjoying it too much to get distracted by the opposite sex.

That hot summer day by the water cooler, however, was a day for getting distracted. First by the heat, then by news of an oncoming Goblin strike which was pulling emphasis off current projects and more on preventative measures. So when Hermione announced a welcome break from an intense meeting, she was in the mood to take her mind off work. The office sometimes was visited by muggles – either associates of specific muggle related programmes or for deliveries of a muggle nature. Because of this, magic was kept to a minimum, and the secretary at the reception desk sent flashing reminders of a muggle approaching. Another consequence of this intrusion was the office resembled a typical muggle office. Ordinary leaf plants, normal-sized filing cabinets, desks and the water cooler. Even when there was no danger of muggle intrusion, the water cooler was used often, almost as much as in muggle offices, becoming a sort of gossip centre.

Getting a cool drink during the break in the meeting, Hermione heard a chirpy greeting and turned to see her superior smiling at her. Jacket off and tie loosened his hair was beginning to get damp and his stubble glistening a little.

Walter was the highest flyer of them all; smart and professional and always focused. In some respects, he resembled Percy Weasley, in his adherence to the letter of the Law and pride in his appearance and reputation; but Hermione never liked lingering on this comparison. They had shared a moment at the water cooler and he began taking a greater interest in her. At first, she had resisted his invitations to dinner. She hadn't sorted through her feelings about her ex and didn't want to jump straight into something new, especially with a work colleague. But after a few more weeks had passed and Walter, there and then, grew more and more attractive she concluded that if her ex hadn't tried to contact her then he really was just an ex. She pushed away warnings that she would never love anyone as much as him. That part of her life was over.

They started tentatively; he was the perfect gentleman and soon softened her up. On one occasion after dinner they had gone back to his, her heart pumping nervously. But when they had started talking on the sofa, they ended up talking all night. Whenever she thought of that time she smiled, sometimes just talking is the nicest thing to do with someone close to you.

Christmas came around again and Walter invited her to meet his family. She had wanted to go back to the Weasley's, especially after she hadn't gone the year before. But he was insistent and made it seem so tempting. In the end she yielded and missed another visit home. After that Walter suggested that she move in with him and fed up with over analysing things, she agreed as cheerfully as she could when her heart felt full of lead. They would go to work, each on their own projects and in their own offices, then they'd both work overtime, going to each other's offices to do paperwork. Maybe if everyone else had gone they'd snuggle up over the candle briefly, before retiring to his flat.

It was not a secret, their relationship, but Walter was very wary of being affectionate in public, Hermione agreed. She was happy, at least on all the days when it was sunny, for some reason looking out at rain made her cry. Once Walter had been concerned when he'd come back late from an emergency meeting to find her staring blankly into the rain, tears streaming down her face, completely lost in something he could never see. It was obvious to her why, but she shook her head and buried those feelings deeper into her heart.

Three years flew by and a notice from the Ministry back in England brought her mind back to the land she had left behind. There was to be a Ceremony to appoint the new Prime Minister and a huge New Year's Eve ball. All of the senior members of the Ministry were invited; feeling highly honoured and nostalgic about her old life, Hermione accepted the invitation.

Sorting her out-going papers and packing some "holiday-work" – despite Miranda's protestations – she was getting concerned that she couldn't find a particular letter that should have come through a while ago. After searching her desk five times, she went to her pigeon hole for the second time in three years – she had earned a personal assistant extremely quickly, within two weeks of coming, and so hadn't needed to go. Despite her fast approaching departure, there was still the stack of letters, internal and external mail, all Ministry business. Sighing, she picked up the huge bundle, scanned it and then put it to one side. She peered into that grey box suspiciously. Using her wand to illuminate the corners she blew some dust off the bottom to instantly regret it as it puffed into her face. Coughing and bumping her head, she cursed under laboured breath. Determined to find the letter, she looked in again once the dust had settled and saw a corner of white poking from a far corner.

Puzzled, whilst feeling cautious relief, she gently pulled and saw an average-sized plain envelope with the government seal on the right corner. Although it was addressed to her in faded ink, it had no indication of who it was from or which department. This was not likely to be the envelope she sought, however, she concluded that it must be it. Taking up all the letters she brought them back to her desk and before she could open it, Miranda walked in and apologised.

It seemed that someone had left the letter Hermione was looking for on her desk. She handed it over and Hermione opened it, read it and then put it to one side. Curiosity almost overpowering, she grabbed the mystery letter and ripped it open. There was another envelope inside that one, small and cream, simply bearing her first name.

She could recognise that scrawled handwriting anywhere.

In the end she shoved it in her suitcase and refused to think about it until Christmas Eve, when she left for England. She left it unopened, put it back in the first envelope and tried not think of it pressed in between her clothes. Walter was going to be joining her at the Burrow on Christmas Day, having to sort out some things at the apartment. So after sending her luggage via Floo, she apparated to the Burrow boundaries and walked up to the house alone. The snow glistened in the late afternoon sunshine, the chicken's clucking was muffled from inside their pen, the familiar ramshackle house stood before her, the windows lighted almost as if the house was glad to see her again. She was excited, nostalgic, nervous and sad all at the same time.

Wiping a tear from her eye and breathing out a little she rang the doorbell. Feeling a smile broaden as the lock turned in the door she wasn't prepared for the physically fit, empathetic and inquisitive young man that appeared in the light.


	7. Christmas Eve, Christmas Morning

Christmas Morning

Recovering from surprise first, Ron smiled broadly and waved her inside. He made a comment about the weather, took her coat and before she could streak away wished her a merry Christmas. She nodded stiffly and then turned, fighting a rising feeling in her throat. Watching her back enter the living room, he held her coat in his hands for a moment, lost in thought. He hung her coat up by the door and noticed that her aroma had changed. Avoiding seeing her again, he went to help in the kitchen, which for him, was a desperate measure.

Immeasurable joy flooded through her as she embraced her old friends again. All nervousness vanished as she was poked mock-angrily by an alarmingly grown-up Ginny and grinned at by that bespeckled hero; the banter flowed easily and her insides ballooned pleasantly.

Despite being sat next to…_him,_ at dinner, suspecting this to be the work of Ginny, Hermione managed to ignore him quite well. She was just happy to drink in the familiar atmosphere and swim in nostalgia. Ron, on the other hand, was trying not to analyse his feelings whilst the embodiment of his confusion sat next to him, but he was finding it difficult. Mrs Weasley pulled him from his concentration.

"Ron dear, is Melissa still coming tomorrow?" Hermione didn't look up from her plate but strained her ears. He replied casually, so she couldn't be sure who this Melissa woman was. Mrs Weasley helped her out. "Oh that's good, I do like Melissa; she's a lovely girl. Always so chirpy and eager to help." She added as a calculated after-thought. "Pretty too." Hermione looked up despite herself and saw Ron completely ignore this comment. She wandered, as she turned to discuss the new Prime Minister with Percy, what this meant.

"Is Walter still coming?" Ginny asked during a brief lull in conversation. Hermione nodded and looked over to a listening Ms Weasley a little nervously.

"If that's alright?" Her second mother smiled warmly.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of ours." Ron had heard of this 'friend' from Harry but hadn't thought about it much, as he had been successfully keeping himself distracted. Now he felt a twinge in his stomach and looked down at his almost empty plate, it was a rare occasion that he didn't have the desire to finish it.

After dinner, Hermione skilfully dodged all of Ginny's questions concerning her feelings about the latter's brother by either ignoring them or frowning mock-angrily. Eventually, after at least a good ten minutes, her red-haired friend threw up her hands and vowed silence, which made Hermione as relieved as she looked. Everyone said good night, thoughts on the big day and the returned friend padded upstairs to Ginny's old room – Ginny and Harry going for their apartment for the night.

She thought briefly of the little piece of parchment enclosed in two envelopes in her suitcase. Having completely ignored it whilst unpacking, her thoughts wondered over to it now she had encountered the sender. He hadn't mentioned it. Tiredness creeping up, she yawned and thought that there was plenty of time before she left, she turned away from the suitcase and went to sleep.

Morning came without warning, happy chaos with it. The joy of seeing so many people opening presents haphazardly coursed through her. Wrapping flying everywhere and laughter everywhere and people chatting and cooing at their presents. The embarrassment she expected when her strange guest arrived was diminished by the lightness of her belly, also she didn't notice the reaction Harry, Ginny and Fred had to her beau. It wasn't that he was unpleasant, Ginny reflected, or even that he was in a way replacing her brother; it was thathe was just too _Percy_. She looked across the room at her elder brother and his instant new friend, noting their laughs had aligned already; she wrinkled her nose and looked away, shivering.

Having instantly recognised the stranger without the need of introductions – purely by his smart appearance and confident behaviour – Ron was very surprised when the stranger in question began talking to him.

"I must say I adore your home," Hermione's boyfriend almost cooed at the red haired man. Ron thanked him cautiously, not sure if this was meant sincerely. However, from his further comments and how the conversation leaned towards the Ministry and did not even mention their one thing in common, Ron eventually concluded that the man didn't know who he was. Uncertain whether to attribute this to the similarity to his brothers or the lack of knowledge of Hermione's romantic past, the confused tried not to think about it as the boyfriend moved over to Percy. Walter thought for a moment that the brother he had just spoken to was acting a tad awkwardly but then Percy cracked a joke and he laughed loudly enough to dispel the feeling.

She was chatting to Fleur when the doorbell rang again. She didn't stop talking, although curious as to whom the newcomer could be, Fleur didn't seem to have noticed. Hermione had her back to the living room door, so it was Fleur who saw the new arrival first, she looked up and smiled, saying to Hermione.

"Have you met Melissa?" Not making the connection immediately, Hermione turned and saw a homely, pretty and rotund woman wrapped in a heavy coat and thick knit scarf. The woman greeted the others and as Ron took her coat, Hermione realised that Melissa was actually a lot thinner than she first appeared, and her rotund figure came from being pregnant. She was unprepared for their first introduction so remembered little of what either of them said, however, later on as Melissa had come up to talk to her about being abroad, she concluded that she must have managed not to offend or alienate her through her pause.

Their conversation on Hermione's move didn't last too long however, as Melissa and Ron's mutual affection was obvious to Hermione. Although she had no issue with the woman as a person – yet – she wasn't sure of her own feelings to get too pally with her. Up until lunch, no matter whom she talked to or whatever subject she talked about, she observed unwillingly but closely any joke the pair shared, any tactile behaviour or even any smile at each other. At one point Ron put his hand to his girlfriend's stomach to feel the baby kicking and Hermione felt deeply confused and offended that no one had thought to mention to her that Ron was soon to be a father.

Strange bubbles squirming and bursting in her stomach, she hung around with Walter and Percy, supporting Walter on every point, trying to get him to notice her as much as possible. He smiled at her when she spoke and squeezed her shoulder every so often, but as she tried to monitor other people's reactions without looking, it didn't feel like it was enough.

Finally, it was time for dinner.


	8. Christmas Dinner

Christmas Dinner

Sitting back after listening joyfully to the Weasley brothers' banter, Hermione surveyed the table. Laughter seemed to come from all directions: Mrs Weasley was reprimanding Bill's long hair in between chatting to Ginny and Fleur – Hermione made a mental note to ask Ginny how that relationship had changed so dramatically – Mr Weasley was talking light-hearted Ministry business with Percy and Walter as everyone else was listening to Charlie's newest tales from Romania.

"So Hermione, how's your crusade for Magical Creature's Rights? I hear that the results have been far from promising!" Jumping and swiftly cursing Percy's triumphant expression, she looked to Walter for help as her mind went blank. He simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of wine. Internally frowning, she began a diplomatic, but flustered, answer. Why had the table gone silent? As she panicked, anger grew at stupid Walter's smile; she knew that he had been against the idea from the beginning. Damn him.

"I think, Percy, she's trying to tell you that you're too junior to know such 'classified information'." She turned to her saviour as Percy spluttered and his family laughed. Ron sat with a small smile on his lips, catching her eye he winked and rushing gratitude forced her lips into a silent "thank you". He smiled a little deeper but then shifted his gaze and began talking to Harry. Ignoring her own rule of "ignore _him_ at all times", Hermione lingered her eyes on him a moment, and then a moment more.

How long had it been since she had seen him?

When did he mature during these three years?

Three years?

Melissa sat back down next to him, muttered something to him and unable to watch him laugh with that woman, Hermione finally looked away.

Confused.

Dinner over, everyone helped to clear up and began filtering back into the house as it grew darker. Remains of wrapping paper and decorations still glittering and brightening the house as people now had coloured hats and bits of confetti in their hair, Ron was pulled from pretending to admire this view as Melissa asked him again what was wrong.

"I'm fine!" No matter how many times he said it she still didn't change her sceptical look. She had only known him a year or so, but Ron couldn't hide his gloom from Melissa. As she had been becoming more and more calm and safe within herself, she had been noticing this inner sadness in her friend. Since the day before it had intensified and they both knew why. Twisting his mouth half in mirth and half in frustration he finally cracked under her gaze. "Ok, you want to know the truth?" Slapping his arm playfully she grinned as he half laughed and gave her a look of mock shock. She had to wait a few moments as his brothers stopped laughing at their small play fight, and only when they had all resumed talking did she sneak a glance over to the woman across the room.

"It's her, isn't it?" He didn't have to follow her gaze to know who she meant or what she was implying, but did anyway. He turned his head back and his heavy sigh won a sympathetic rubbing where she had just hit him. As if suddenly aware they were surrounded he straightened up and gulped some wine. "I'll help you, if I-" Something desperate flashed in his eyes as he implored her no. He managed to restrain most of the panic, but Ginny still noticed his look as he lowered his voice.

"Promise me Mel, promise you'll stay out of it." She gave him what he wanted to hear, smiling sadly. Even though moved by that look in his eyes, she still resolved to find Ginny and help in any way she could.

"So how have you been?" Hermione turned round at the sound of his voice and smiled warmly but with a hint of confusion.

"I've told you, I've been great!" Harry gave her his x-ray look, one that looked very similar to Dumbledore's all-knowing gaze.

"I have barely spoken to you, tell me everything!" So she briefed him again and even though he smiled, his look still made Hermione squirm slightly. After a little while she cracked under his gaze.

"Ok, so there have been some ups and downs. It's just, Percy's right, the Rights project isn't going that well and sometimes it just feels like I'm hitting my head against a brick wall." He nodded sympathetically but managed to extract no other reason for any dissatisfaction.

Harry thoughtfully watched her weave her way through the room. He had overheard Melissa drawing out Ron's lingering feelings for Hermione, which seemed not to be lingering at all, but fierce and painful. Sighing at the difficulty of relationships, he wondered whether or not he should have mentioned something to Hermione. Though thinking properly about it he couldn't think of a way to phrase it, or a realistic and positive response from her. Anyway, he had no way of knowing her feelings about Ron. He saw her stalk up to Walter angrily and considered that all he did have a strong inkling of was her dissatisfaction with that particular relationship.

"Thank you!" Her tone was obviously not one of gratefulness but he smirked.

"My pleasure." Her acid look didn't subdue his cheeriness, this muggle "champagne" was really very good.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He cooed as she felt more heat rising in her face.

"And be your knight in shining armour? Come on Hermione, you're a grown woman. You can fight your own battles." With an invading peck on the cheek he swanned off and left her simmering.

He'd never been a romantic. She hadn't wanted him to be. She loved his intelligence, high aspirations and charming looks. He inspired her to make more of herself. He gave her space to grow, encouraged her projects and she hadn't needed him…

Walking towards the kitchen to pour herself some more wine, she went over all the work they had done together and realised that every project they had worked on together had been his idea. He hadn't stayed up late to give his opinion on her Elf Right's Act, and indeed had been negative towards the whole concept. But even the projects that he didn't object to, no help had been offered. All the presents he had bought for her had been recommended by that girl in the jewellers, all the cards only bearing a signature; apologies for absences brief and perfunctory and sometimes when they had been out in public she had felt as though she were still a work colleague. Maybe he wanted her, but it was beginning to dawn on her that he didn't care too much about her. But wasn't what she had looked for? Someone she didn't really need? She sighed, why was she having all these revelations now? Was it the wine? Or because of being back home-

She stopped.

She was back home. A warm feeling coursed through her and as she relished it, pushing open the kitchen door smiling like an idiot…

His presence still surprised her.

Recovering from the surprise first, she enquired into what he was reading. Ron looked down at it, trying to remember.

"Oh, just some papers on 'Addressing repressed memories in unstable patients', I've got an assignment to finish". She stood motionless for a full three seconds. He counted them, a small grin brewing before he ventured. "I know, I'm shocked too." Shaking her head a little, she smiled and covered up her reaction by asking more about it. Determined not to let their past get to him, he briefly outlined the hypothesis and the details of the study. Genuinely interested, she sat down and read a few bits when Ron offered it to her. _I've underestimated him._ Her surprise deepened when she saw scrawled notes in the margins, unsure of what to think and reminded of similar writing upstairs in her suitcase, she handed it back hastily and rose to get a drink of water. He cleared his throat.

"How are you?" The question had definitely been forced, but she was focusing more on controlling her sinking stomach – why was it doing that? She managed to answer in non-committed way and returned the question. Images flashed before his eyes and not being able to see her face, he was able to smile broadly. "Good. I've been good." Not understanding why this admission made her sad and bitter she nodded stiffly and left without her water.

That woman appeared from nowhere and affronted her kindly. Still a little confused from the kitchen encounter with her ex, Hermione let herself be lead to the sofa where she was seated and talked to by a bouncy Melissa. Eventually she managed to focus and found herself being asked about Walter. She briefly outlined their history and despite still being angry at him, decided not to undermine the charming persona which he fostered for occasions such as this.

"He's…a perfect gentleman." She finished, uncertainly. Melissa smirked a little.

"Not a knight in shining armour though?" Hermione struggled for a moment before the other prompted her. "During dinner, when Percy was grilling you, I saw him just raise an eyebrow at you." Blushing, Hermione tittered.

"Well I can fight my own battles, I am a grown woman." The other grown woman agreed heartily and complimented on the more uncertain one's positive and constructive attitude, citing her rise in the Ministry.

"It sounds like you're having a fantastic time abroad." After Hermione nodded she sensed a change in tone from her inquisitor. "But you must have missed this lot." She was being cautious now and the moment Melissa mentioned her and Ron's relationship, she interrupted.

"Look, Ron's a nice guy but he's not my type…but it's all over, but we were young…" Melissa reassured Hermione that she understood and her smile bred confidence in her friend's ex.

"Well," Melissa started, "You're right, he's a really great guy, handsome, a great listener" Hermione looked at her strangely, "and he's so motivated. I mean, I know I helped him getting into the Psychology course, but now he's there, he's working so hard" Hermione stared into the distance, digesting those words. She'd been less than pleased when Walter had failed to support her both abroad and at dinner just now; but had she supported him? She shook her head a little. Of course she had! She'd been to every stupid dinner party he'd insisted she attend. But looking back at Ron's… girlfriend, she still used the word reluctantly, hearing her talk about encouraging him to better himself, she thought, had she ever really been there for Ron? She'd been too busy focusing on what she needed and felt, that she'd neglected him and his needs. She'd known that he could do anything, but had she ever told him that? Melissa stopped talking abruptly and Hermione realised that she looked worried, reassuring that Melissa that she was fine, she got up and joined people saying goodnight. Melissa sat for a while longer before going to track down and report back to Ginny.

After saying goodnight to everyone, Harry and Ginny adjourned to their room. The first item on the agenda was their oldest friends' relationship; they compared notes on what they had gathered from that day and sighed at the seeming hopelessness of the pair. Harry didn't surprise Ginny with his scepticism over Hermione and Walter's relationship lasting long and both already knew Ron's feelings about the attached one. The pair thought of ways to gauge Hermione's true feelings but surrendered to tiredness before they could come up with a satisfactory answer.

"Coming up?" Ron shook his head, showing her the study papers. Melissa tutted at him for working on Christmas Day but he smiled. Though looking closely at her, his smile left quickly.

"You alright? You look a little pale…" She smiled tiredly at his furrowed brow.

"I'm fine, just tired." Patting her stomach fondly he whispered to it.

"You look after your mum alright? She's had a big night." Playfully slapping him again she laughed before her eyes softened at the thought of him as a father. All he needed was that someone.

Up in her room, after biding everyone a brief goodnight, even _him_, Hermione climbed into bed. Walter was staying at Percy's flat. She couldn't remember why. Lying awake, she tried not to think about anything. Failing terribly, she sat up and looked around for distraction. She caught sight of it and it teased her. Sighing, she felt the edge of the envelope sticking out of her bag with her fingertip and then quickly before she could challenge herself, she grabbed Ron's letter and ripped open.

Unfolding the paper, she breathed.


	9. The Letter

The letter

_Dear Hermione,_

_This must be the hundredth letter I have written to you, I've lost count. I've never been good at writing, as I'm sure you remember. All those essays you helped me re-write, or rather, wrote for me. Well, I've never been good with words full stop, but I'm going to try to explain._

_I need you Hermione. I miss you. I miss your voice, your hair, your mouth. The way you roll your eyes, how you twist your hair round your finger, how you smile. But most of all I miss your presence, I miss knowing that you're here. I need you so much I can't think straight, I'm going insane without you._

_But no matter what you say I know that you don't need me. You don't need anyone to be as incredible as you are._

_You're strong and passionate and can handle yourself in any situation. You're too intelligent and beautiful to not be loved by an equal. And no amount of love can make us equals, Hermione, you're too brilliant to be lumbered with someone like me. _

_I love you with everything I have. I shouldn't have expected you to feel the same. All I'm saying is that I love and care about you and I'll be there for you no matter what happens, no matter where we go from here._

_So in the end all I ask is for us to go back to the beginning, I miss us._

_Please Hermione, I just want to hear from you._

_Wishing you every happiness,_

_Ron_


	10. What Letter?

What letter?

How dare he?

Fuming, she breathed heavily for a few minutes before thumping downstairs ready for some fresh air. Despite her earlier questioning over their relationship, his words angered and confused her.

How can he write all these things after not writing for such a long time? _I love you with everything I have._

Three years!

Who did he think he was?

Not enough to tell her that when she'd needed to hear it. _No, wait till I'm coming back to try and…what, stop things from being awkward? _Or mess her around?

He couldn't mean all this, not after silence for so long, when both of them were in other relationships; he had to be… Regretful? Jealous? Just plain mean?

As she twisted down the spiral staircase, her furious mind rattled on; that man shamelessly abused his girlfriend's trust. _I need you Hermione. _His sheer arrogant immorality at telling her that whilst expecting a child with another woman sickened her. Vision blurred due to her running, she took a moment to register the man she almost ran into.

It was him.

She completely contrasted his surprise melting into indifference by slapping him full in the face. Shocked, he staggered backwards and his confusion fuelled the furnace. She interrupted his choking questions by bombarding him with the accusations bubbling inside her. Unaware of her rising shout, unaware of the man's utter bewilderment she stormed on until he found his voice.

"What the hell is this about?"

"The letter!" Both were left breathing heavily as he tried to catch up. All he managed was a confused noise. She repeated herself louder and he tried to think fast under pressure.

"What letter?" Her description of it didn't help, as Ron didn't consider the only letter that he had ever written to her as shameless and cold-hearted and…

"That letter!" Despite everything, he felt himself go red. "Is that what you mean?" Half relieved at being finally understood and half infuriated that it had took this long she went on.

"Yes! That letter, which is the single most disgusting-"

"What? Why did you hit me! Wha…?" He lost all words, rubbing his face as it tingled sharply. He was so bewildered, surely he hadn't written anything to deserve that quite painful slap… Hermione gladly steam rolled on with her complaints.

"Because you're such a, a slimy little bastard! Saying all of those things three years too late, when I'm with someone else and now especial-" He stopped her, rankled.

"Hey!" Her insults were making his stinging face intensify. "Get your facts straight! Three years too late?" But she wasn't listening.

"You should have told me those things instead of writing them down three years after I left the country, if they're even true! And I'm angry now because I've just read it!" Half-knowing what had happened he tried to explain, frustration stabbing the bubbles of hope rising within his chest.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before you left, I thought…But," His brain suddenly highlighted him something she'd just said and it forced an edge into his voice. "What do you mean _if _they're true?"

"Well the fact that they've been said pretty recently-"

"Enough!" She stopped yelling immediately, sensing the change in the air faster than he did himself. "Why do you always assume the worst of me?" She screwed up her mouth as she tried to ignore that but he cut across her again. "Can't you believe that I actually meant those things? Why do you have such trouble believing I'm capable of emotion, of empathy, of anything other than being a bumbling idiot!" There was a near-silence, only their heavy breaths in the night. She stared at his face, and saw not only anger there but deep hurt, the kind she hadn't seen in years.

"_Meant?_" she whispered. He snorted and turned away, striding into the living room, she followed him haltingly, hating herself for her pleading tone. "Ron!" She entered the room to find him pacing, everything that they'd both felt at the end of their relationship was returning to them in waves. Her emotions paralysed her, so all she could do was watch him as a single word echoed in her mind. _Meant? _

"I have feelings too you know!" He said suddenly, and despite herself she nodded, seeing them. Seeing them so clearly on his face, his jaw set, eyes unmoving; in how he held himself head up, shoulders back, hands not in his pockets. She thought briefly that even when he'd been angry and indignant before, he'd never held himself as confidently as this. He stopped pacing and looked at her, right in the eye. "You know, after you left, I was miserable. I tried not to think about you, or us, or any of it." She didn't say anything, gulping and looking away, but listening, listening so closely. "Out of nowhere you leave, no note no nothing! I pluck up the courage to be honest where you couldn't be. I told you… I wrote everything that I was feeling, everything you did to me and…nothing. You want to doubt what I wrote then go ahead, assume what you want! But I meant every word and I will stick to them till the day I die." His voice dropped, as if regretting his words already. "Not everyone's a two-faced bitch." There was nothing in her mind, nothing she could think of to say, just, nothing. After a moment of silence, she looked up at him and saw him staring at her, waiting for eye contact. He held her for a second and then he walked out.

Stranded in the wake of an emotional whirlwind, Hermione stood alone in the middle of the room. Slowly, she turned, wondered from the room and climbed the stairs numbly. She couldn't even process what had been said. Just one word revolving in her head. _Meant? _She reached her room and picked up the discarded letter. Unwilling to read it again she shoved it in the envelope and put it in the drawer of the desk, shutting it firmly. Turning, she spotted the outside envelope on the bed. She picked that up too and was about to shut it in the drawer when she looked at the stamp.

4th October 2000.

It had been sent three years ago. Ron was telling the truth. She sat down and stared blindly at the date. He had really meant those things he said about missing her and feeling inadequate and… All those years ago he had needed her. Yearned for her. He hadn't told her when she'd needed him to, but, remembering the moment, she cringed as she realised that he had had no way of knowing. How could he have known? When he had realised, he'd sat down and organised his feelings into a written letter for her. He had contacted her, he had tried. He'd stick by those words forever. And all she had done was mope that she hadn't heard from him, not thinking that maybe she should write to him, unconsciously giving up on their relationship, letting go the one she truly loved.

Tears broke through her numbness. Finally, her feelings of being incomplete made sense, she realised, with hot tears arrowing down her face, that she still loved him. After all the hurt of the last time she had seen him and the long years of silence and other things to occupy her heart, she still loved him. All that time she'd spent not thinking about him or dating Walter, her hidden feelings had still clung on, maybe even strengthening because of her lack of recognition or attention. She still…

Nothing Walter or any other man could say or do could compare to how that red-haired man could make her feel. The sweet-nothings and poetic one-liners that her efficient boyfriend cooed in her ear couldn't tug at her heart half as much as her lost love's raw emotions written scruffily on the page. That letter made her feel… It made her head spin, her stomach turn and her heart ache. It was nothing like anything she had ever experienced during those three years. Slowly, she admitted it to herself. She hadn't moved on, she hadn't got over her feelings. How could she have moved on when she'd ignored everything to do with him?

Thinking back to earlier, she realised that he didn't need her anymore. He didn't feel those things anymore. He had a steady job, his own place and a beautiful girlfriend who was carrying his child. When she saw him with Melissa, she felt as jealous as when he had been with Lavender. But now he wasn't her Ron. Not anymore. He'd grown into a sensitive, confident man and she hadn't had any part of that. He'd done it without her. _I need you._

Not anymore.

She cried harder, trying to stifle her sobs so as to remain undetected. For such a long time memories raced around her head, voices echoing, so loud it was as if the people who owned them were in the room.

Lavender, her old rival, giggling soppy phrases and cooing in her ear.

Ginny and Harry her true friends, sympathetic words.

Melissa, her new rival, joking and laughing.

It was a few hours into the next morning and she had never felt more tired. After a while she sniffed and wiped her face dry, she climbed into bed to beg sleep to take her.


	11. Hang Up The Gloves?

Hang Up the Gloves?

It was Boxing Day, he had to remind himself as he woke, the fight last night pulling him back in time. _Man, I haven't had a fight like that since…_ Well he hadn't had any kind of serious fight since the last time he'd seen her. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the light seeping through his old curtains. He could hear the distant clucking of chickens and a slight wind rustling the trees as the 'heated discussion' came back to him. _Slimy little bastard. _He frowned, a little heat rising to his face; he touched his cheek, it still felt a bit warmer than normal and his stomach twisted a little as he remembered the confrontation. It had been so sudden, so short and…hurtful. Snorting, he shifted a little on his bed. Now who was being immature? His face grew hotter as he realised that he was really quite angry. He sat up abruptly, almost mouthing his indignant thoughts. She was the one who had walked out on him. She was the one who hadn't made any contact, any kind of effort. She was the one who hadn't needed him. Why was she so upset?

Calming a little, he drew on his years of learning patience to steady is breathing and think rationally. If his new experience had taught him anything, people only get angry about things that matter to them, or else they rant about things to cover up their real issues. So either Hermione still had feelings for him, or she was having some other problems and taking out her rage on him. But why, if she had done nothing over the _years _apart, would she still have feelings for him? None of it made sense.

At any rate, why did he care? Even though the break-up had pained him more than he could have ever imagined, he had managed. He had lived through a whole three years without her. Maybe he could do it permanently. At this thought, however, his stomach squirmed. He still really hadn't addressed all his feelings, at least not those underneath the surface.

He sighed; hearing the sounds of others getting up downstairs. Now wasn't really the time to go delving into his emotional depths, but he still didn't make any move to join the others. Going over again what had been said last night he tried to understand her point of view. _Saying all of those things three years too late when I'm with someone else…_She was with that suit; he was professional and charming and probably rich and powerful too – he certainly acted like he was – so in a way he was a perfect match for his ambitious ex. She had a great job which he gathered she loved; she may have missed her old friends but not enough to visit until an important Ministry occasion.

So what was the problem?

Ginny woke with her stomach churning, head heavy; she staggered to the bathroom and was sick immediately. She was hovered over the toilet for a few minutes more, her insides retracting violently every so often, threatening to force more slimy remains of the previous night from her tired body. A knock on the door made her groan.

"Hello? I'm sorry to bother you but I need to use the toilet pretty urgently!" It was Melissa. Staggering up very ungracefully, the red-head flushed and tried to leave without looking in the mirror but her weak legs buckled and she grabbed onto the sink sharply, jarring every muscle she could still feel. "Hello?" Another knock on the door found it open and a worn-out but polite face peaked round the door. On seeing who it was, and her state, the pregnant lady rushed in and set the weakly protesting woman on the chair in the corner, feeling her forehead. Sympathetic, she grabbed a hand towel and wiped the slightly feverish face.

"Oh honey, how many weeks?" But she couldn't get any coherence out of her sudden patient so rushed to the door to call for Harry. Instead she found a red-eyed, bushy-haired face approaching. "Oh, Hermione! I need your help!"

Harry was sitting at the breakfast table, chatting with Mrs Weasley and Charlie, the rest of the house pretty quiet. The house was still covered with decorations and discarded present wrappings but Mrs Weasley forbid either man to help as she left to clear up. The two talked a little more before Charlie went off the deal with the cold-resistant gnomes and Harry rose to wake Ginny. Ron walking in stopped him and he sat down again, smiling and wondering how he could broach the subject of-

"Well, since you've got that look on your face-" Harry smirked a little guiltily as Ron read him perfectly. _Damn, he's getting too good at this!_ "me and Hermione had a fight last night." Eyes widening, his bespeckled friend urged him on. "She'd just read that letter I wrote her and took offence." Harry left his mouth open as his brain was unable to give him anything to say. Ron just nodded understandingly at the vaguely confused face before him and tucked in to some eggs and bacon.

"Woah, that's…" Not understanding what had happened, Harry didn't really know how to describe it.

"Not even all of it," Ron went on, "not only did she take such "offence" as to yell at me but she hit me too!" Ron showed Harry his red cheek and his friend winced. _How did this happen? _Seeing Harry's confusion, Ron smirked a little. "I know, right?" Shaking his head, almost laughing, he murmured. "Crazy." Whilst chewing, he looked back up at a silent Harry, who was trying to think how to respond without condemning Hermione completely.

"Well, I guess Hermione took the break-up as hard as you did but… just didn't show it? And she still…?" Swallowing, Ron wasn't really angry or surprised by this observation but felt the need to defend himself.

"Oh, and how do you know I took it hard at all?" Harry just gave him that look which Ron sighed and nodded to. "Alright, but that still doesn't excuse what she did." When Harry said nothing, the red-headed man put down his fork. "It does?" The green eyes, protected by the glasses a little, bore into the hard pair across the table, drilling through such strong defences. Still, he didn't say anything, knowing that often, people realise more when it's like they're having an argument with themselves. He soon discovered that his wounded friend was still that, wounded. Ron began to raise his voice.

"You want me to apologise? For being honest?" He shook his head like trying to shake away a mosquito. "I can't understand what the hell her problem is, but whatever it is, she shouldn't be taking it out on me! God! We're just…strangers now." Seeing the bitter sadness in this last admission, Harry was stirred from his silence, trying to be gentle.

"Of course she wasn't justified. But Ron, all through everything, you're not strangers. You can't just ignore your history. Think about the incredible things you've been through, we've all been through!" He sighed a little. "You were friends first; can't you ever go back to that, at least?" Melissa came in at that point and told them that Ginny was feeling ill. Pausing briefly to look meaningfully at Ron, Harry got up and rushed upstairs.

Since he was already talking about it, Ron updated Melissa on the latest events.

"Wow, I thought she was meant to be the logical one." He shrugged before pouring her some water. She sat back in her chair; thinking back to Hermione's reactions the day before and this morning she looked for what it was that he had, and still, loved in the brown-eyed Ministry-woman.

Throughout the day, she had seen some of Hermione's not-so-covert looks over at her ex. She thought that Hermione had looked sad when hearing of Ron's achievements, disappointed almost, but through his advancement or her absence during it? This morning, now Melissa knew of the night before, she could say that the look in Hermione's eyes had been sorrow and, regret? It was a conscious decision not to tell Ron of her scarce understanding, feeling that he needed to sort through his own feelings, without considering anyone else.

It was through conversing with Melissa, that Ron pondered what Harry had said, and realised, a little begrudgingly, that he was right. As much as Hermione had hurt him, and no matter what came of this mess, he still cared about her. Again, he didn't think it the time to discover the reason why, but anyway, the feelings were there. He was still angry. Merlin knows he still couldn't believe what she'd said. But thinking of the ill Ginny and her carer, and even the heavily pregnant woman sitting across from him, he concluded that would be best for everyone to endeavour to take the high road and apologise. Who knows? Maybe she'd follow his lead and they could be civil. That would be best.

Even if he still felt broken.

Not thinking anyone would mind, Ginny being well-cared for and no one else really around, Hermione decided to have breakfast with her boyfriend. Her stomach clenched at the word and his face in her inner eye, she seriously needed to address this issue soon. Knocking on Percy's door, she breathed in deeply and opened her eyes with steel. Mouth gaping after he opened door she swallowed. God, she really wished she had known that sometimes in the morning, Percy answered the door in his dressing gown. Trying not to look down, she forced a smirk into an awkward smile and slid into the house reluctantly. Walking into the kitchen quickly, she was not prepared to see her rigid, confident and charming boyfriend to be clad in a matching dressing gown, eating a piece of toast in the most nonchalant way she could imagine. Through everything, she felt like laughing, she couldn't wait to tell-

Who? She sighed, going into autopilot as she listened to her boyfriend's droning. Sitting down, she replayed the previous night in her head and shivered. Even the thought of him, the image of his hurt made her stomach churn, her insides squirm with fear, shame and sympathy. There was no way that she could let everything tumble out. She would have to get herself together more solidly before she saw him again. Determined not to let her own needs interfere with his happiness, she concluded that it would be best to keep her hurt inside. He was happy with his new girlfriend, he was expecting a child for goodness sake! What possible point would there be to him hearing the confused and impassioned ramblings of his crazy ex?

She rubbed her forehead, toying with some mashed up banana that had appeared before her. In his letter he'd talked about being friends again. She guessed that returning to the beginning was all she could hope for. That thought chilled her, making her want to cry. The two men around her were laughing loudly over something, it was so grating. Standing, she resolved to go and get her head sorted out, fast. They nodded vaguely as she left, holding her head high. Preparing to squash all of her love back into the box that had begun to crack the minute she'd seen _him_ again.


	12. Taking Baby Steps

Taking Baby Steps

"For goodness sake! I'm fine Harry, for the last time-" Hermione was almost run over by the ginger fireball that was stalking out of her room, half-shouting at someone behind her. "I-" He foolishly tried to interrupt her and, even unable to see it, Hermione knew well the look which made him cower. "Am!" Sweeping round to undoubtedly make a dramatic exit, Ginny caught sight of Hermione and froze.

"Fine." She whispered, something in her old friend's face causing her own to plummet. Harry, misunderstanding, instantly rushed forward to support her. Frowning briefly she slapped his arm lightly and stepped forward, taking Hermione's arm.

"Let's go for a walk."

He sighed and retreated to his room. He had only been looking out for her. Pushing his glasses up his nose a little and muttered to himself. _She_ had scared _him_. Closing the door firmly, he pressed his forehead against it gently. He thought that he was going to have a heart attack when he'd first seen her. Running upstairs without a clue what to expect was hard. But seeing her pale, sweaty face, her weak body… Weakness was something that had never accompanied her. He'd stayed by her side, taking in her uneasy sleep, watching every cursory expression flicker across her face. Then she'd woken, face flushed and energy suddenly returned. Like nothing had happened. He stared at the wood, what _had_ happened? A loud rap on the window startled him. It was a dark feathered owl. Opening the window and grabbing the thin roll of parchment attached to the owl's leg he couldn't help notice that it left immediately. His insides beginning to squirm as he unfolded to note and read.

There was a slight breeze outside, wind rustling agitated leaves.

"I missed you." Hermione was slightly surprised at this abrupt opening. They had been walking away from the house and heading towards the fields next to the forest; the day was mild, a weak sun not giving much warmth in the face of the growing wind. After surprise, came guilt and sadness. She nodded a little, agreeing. But Ginny had more. "What happened Hermione? A few letters a month aren't good enough, I needed to see you, talk with you. Like this!" She gestured between them and they stopped walking, knee-deep in corn. They looked at each other.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just…" She breathed out heavily but Ginny did not appear moved. Looking up, the ministry official gulped and said. "Look, I will tell you, I promise. I just can't now." The red-head snorted unsympathetically and looked as if she were about to probe further but Hermione shot her a look of pure desperation and pleading. The wind picked up a little and then died down in a short swell, Ginny sighed and when the air became still again she took her old friend's arm and lead them further into the garden.

"Soon Hermione, I'm gonna need to hear it soon." After a while of comfortable silence she managed to look her friend in the eye.

"I'm coming back. I've decided. I'm going to come back to England for good. I'm going to write to HR and arrange everything." Focusing out of the eyes and seeing all of the face she saw a small smile. "I've had a great time abroad but I missed everyone here so much, enough is enough.

"That'd be good." They smiled a little deeper, hugged and then, without a word, went their separate ways.

Blowing out her cheeks slowly, Ginny knocked on Harry's door, feeling a little sheepish for her furious outburst earlier. She needed to talk to him. After not hearing a response she entered to find it empty. Frowning slightly, she left and went to her own room and was even more confused when she found a note on her pillow.

_Ginny,_

_Gone to the Ministry, please tell your mum not to wait up dinner, I'll be back as soon as I can. _

_Harry._


	13. New Year Ball

New Year Ball

She shook herself. Tasting her mouth she wrinkled her nose in distaste, she blinked and stretched a little hurriedly. She was slightly embarrassed that she had fallen asleep in the middle of the day, despite no one being there. She had sat down on her bed, staring at the wall, just closing her eyes for a minute. Gulping some spittle, she tried to blink the bad thoughts away. That wasn't who she was now.

The rest of the day passed without Ron and Hermione finding themselves alone together. Both were unsure where to look, although they'd both decided against looking directly at the other. Every time Ron had tried to talk to her she'd made her excuses and almost run for the hills. He took the hint, a little disgruntled that his white flag was being rejected. Even more annoyingly, she had decided to use the days before the New Year Ball to sort out her move back, so had left to arrange things abroad. Though, thinking about her being back in England made him even more uncomfortable and nervous. It was the day after Boxing Day when she'd left and he was sitting in his room, looking out at the late morning scene. The sky was a cold blue and snow still glistened on that familiar view; it was the best thing about his room. He smiled a little as he thought about the time he'd shared it with…he moved his head a little and then had to jerk away as the sunlight flashed off some ice into his eyes. He felt sick. Twisting his mouth, he was about to look back at the view when he suddenly thought. _Dammit! Just, dammit all! _They had been friends before and they could be friends again. _Just get over yourself Weasley. She has._ Standing abruptly, he swallowed again, forcing the twisting coils down past his stomach. Not for the first time, he tightened his mouth into a straight line and tried to appear apathetic. No matter how much it hurt, he had to keep the peace, he needed to be strong. Nodding to himself, he wondered downstairs.

Hermione had flooed back to her new apartment and was packing everything, not doing it fast enough. As much as she loved her place and the city leaving felt right, it just felt right. It was with reluctance, however, that she messaged Miranda, inviting her over to tell her about the move in person. She really had enjoyed her new friend's company and as Miranda had fulfilled all her family obligations – there was a story there that Hermione knew she'd never know – she decided to help Hermione pack and sort through the paperwork. After all, they both secretly enjoyed signing and sorting papers. So they spent a few days sorting boxes and forms before a tearful goodbye and the finish line came into view. But what was the prize? A new position at her old work, her dear old friends, and, just her cherished, old life. Well, part of it.

At the Burrow, Melissa and Ginny, who were sitting in the kitchen, kept on sneaking glances at the subject of their conversation collecting eggs from the hen coop in the fresh morning. Though Ron was acting normally, he wasn't. Melissa nodded at Ginny's slightly heavy-handed but very true statement. Silence fell between them as they grew lost in their own thoughts. Ginny thought about Harry's return on Boxing Day. He had seemed tired, but didn't answer any of her questions about his sudden disappearance, merely reassuring her that everything was under control. It made her nervous when he didn't tell her everything. But there had always been a massive reason for him to protect her; now, it really must have been nothing. Melissa watched the red-headed man's tight jaw, the tension visible even from a distance. It seemed as if his body tensed without him even feeling it, she had noticed little things like that recently and they worried her. All this unresolved tension in the house made her nervous; she shivered and on hearing Ginny's loud cough, turned quickly away from the window and pretended to be chatting as Ron joined them. It was obvious to all of them that he knew exactly what they had really been doing, but knowing that no good could come from a heart-to-heart, knowing that only one conversation between two particular people could possibly do anything to remedy anything, they all smiled awkwardly at each other before the rest of the house began to wake.

Not the best timing for it, but Hermione resolved to end it with Walter. As much as she had enjoyed her job overseas, she knew she belonged here, among her old friends, her family. Walter was the last string holding her back once she'd signed the papers. She had known all along that Walter would never be the One, and it had been good whilst it had lasted but she couldn't go with it any longer. Knowing that he would be with Percy for the remainder of his stay anyway, she visited him on New Year's Eve.

A bit lost within other thoughts, Hermione was slightly ashamed that she was hardly registering what was being said, but seeing Walter mistake her reasons for breaking up for a poor joke she thought, only slightly ashamed. Pulling herself into the outside world, she caught the end of his not-so friendly jibe at her, shared with Percy of all people, who had not left the pair despite her hard stare.

"…come on Hermione, really! You don't cut and run, you always fight to the bitter end! I know you!" Anger brimming at their chortling, she sharpened her gaze and whispered.

"You're right, you do know me. Taste that?" Walter could only stare confusedly, a weak laugh fading as she turned and left. The two Ministry men sat in silence in the small kitchen for a few minutes before Percy turned awkwardly to his new friend.

"I think she meant bitterne-"

"I know what she meant!" Backing off slightly, Percy tried to smile, standing and babbling a little.

"It's alright, I mean, I know this smashing girl in the Magical Enforcement Department, charming girl, had eyes on her myself but you know, you could take her to the Ball instead." Walter started, as he suddenly remembered the whole purpose of his visit, and looked up at Percy.

"She…she really _dumped _me?" At Percy's nod he simply lowered his head again, looking at his hands. Well…that was unexpected.

New Years Eve arrived and, after an awkward dinner and night at the Burrow, Hermione was glad for the momentary distraction the Ball had to offer. The Great Hall in the Ministry was covered with gold and silver banners and it was filled with people. There were a few tables around the edges laded with food and a few waiters milling around with drinks. Hermione stood briefly at the double doors of the raised entrance before she walked shakily down the staircase, nervous barely contained. Whilst greeting some old acquaintances she managed to slip quickly through the crowd, searching. Then, she saw him. He was talking good-humouredly to the Minister of Transport; he looked relaxed, one hand in his pocket, the other ruffling the back of his head a little as he looked as if he was contemplating the answer to a playful question. His lips moved and the Minister laughed before being tapped on the shoulder and excusing himself, all too suddenly, the red-head, her old best friend, her saviour, he ex, turned and their eyes met. She wasn't sure what was in his eyes, the distance between them too great, but she knew that with her imminent and permanent return home, she needed to find out. He didn't move, so she took advantage of a narrow corridor in the crowd and began to make her way to him.

Harry was running late. Where were all his dress clothes? He distinctly remembered laying them out that morning, cursing under his breath and then louder as he tripped over a newly-polished shoe, he was getting angry at whoever had the…the…the _cheek_ to move his-

"Looking for these?" Turning, he saw a grinning Ginny with a coat hanger dangling off her finger, attached to that his shirt and jacket freshly ironed and pressed. Relief mingling with a small thrill in his gut at her expression, he laughingly tried to grab the clothes off her, loving her giggles as she ducked and weaved. In no time at all he had caught her and suddenly the clothes were forgotten as they ended up crushed together, gazing at each other, faces slightly red. Agonizingly slow, Harry dipped his head and met her flushed lips with his own. Hungry, they engulfed each other for a few more seconds. Pulling back reluctantly he murmured.

"I wish you were coming with me" She sighed and didn't even have to remind him verbally. "I know, I know, you need to look after Melissa." Nodding, she smiled softly, sadly.

"And you need to keep our best friends from killing each other."

"Yeah, we don't want 'Murder on the Dance-floor'. God, I used to love that song." Ginny looked at him in confusion which soon melted into laughter as he began singing, very badly, a muggle song.

"No, we don't want any of that." Smiling they stood for a few more minutes, simply entwined in each other, cherishing the moment.

Ron sighed as the Minister left and looking away, saw her from across the room. So many memories accompanied that look on her face; tentative hope brimming behind nervousness. One time in particular, one particular night; another Ball, another decorated room, another crowd. He snapped himself out of his stare; that was another time. It was over now. _Merlin, was it really all over?_ Absent-mindedly, he took a glass of champagne off a passing tray and was surprised as she suddenly appeared in front of him, _damn she's quick_! There was that nervous smile again. Neither said anything for a moment before Ron felt that whatever she wanted to say, she couldn't say it quite yet.

"Nice...decorations?" Gracing his poor attempt at small talk with a breathy snort and little nod she found the necessary courage.He took a sip of champagne as she began, figuring he'd need it.

"So about…about well, everything."

"Look, I know you've been avoiding talking so, we don't have to… We can just, be friends. Like we were." He was making it so easy. But at the same time, hearing him say it broke her a little more. Just friends.

"I'm sorry about..." She wetted her lips, emotion threatening to choke her. Shaking her head a little she blinked furiously, not here, not here, not in front of-

"It's okay." Too late, he'd noticed. Daring to look up, she saw concern and almost couldn't bear it. Ron glanced around at the vibrant colours and noticed all the sounds of talking and laughter. Coming back to her suddenly, he pulled out a tissue from his jacket pocket and spoke again before she interrupted again, pushing the tissue into her hand "You don't have to explain, it's okay."

"No Ron." She was forceful, that strength in her eyes that he remembered so vividly from their past. How long ago since he'd seen that steel? "It's not okay. I'm sorry." She held his gaze for a long moment, before half turning away to blow into the tissue gratefully and dab her tears away as discreetly as she could. He drank some more champagne, a little too eagerly. Finished with the tissue, Hermione burnt it in her hand and they both watched it blacken and curl into itself. She let the ashes fall and wiped her hands together.

"Champagne?" She looked up at him and smiled a little, nodding. He turned to signal to a nearby waiter as she shuffled her feet a little.

"Hermione?" Looking at Ron in confusion for a moment, she saw him turn towards her then glance behind her. She turned quickly, that voice had unnerved her; slurred and irritated. It was Walter. He staggered, eyes unfocused and beginning to be bloodshot. Shocked, Hermione took a step back. Walter was never drunk, he had always been careful and he certainly was not a light-weight, making it hard for him to even get drunk at all. He must have deliberately drunk too much, what possibly could have made him want to-

"Hermione don't leave me!" _Oh._ "You caaaan't, you ca-" He stumbled slightly as his ex tried to usher him to somewhere private to sort him out, looking pale herself. "Oh, oh no! No you d-don't!" Staggering a little, he still managed to remain in the middle of room, resistant to her not-so gentle pushing. People immediately next to them began to shift away, ears turning towards them interestedly.

"Stop pushing me! You little-" Hermione cringed as she saw the loud insult work its way through his throat right up into-

"Hey," A firm but gentle voice was suddenly above her shoulder, a soft hand separating her grip on the drunk's arm. Though quiet, the quarrelling pair could hear exactly what Ron was saying. "She's listening to you. Go on." Surprised by this sudden, reassuring, support, Walter lowered his voice as he turned from his unfocused gaze on the red-head to Hermione, who looked as taken aback as he did.

"I just don't understand. We were going great!" He frowned, his features arranging themselves clumsily, in that careful way drunk people do when they're fighting their intoxication. Hermione was at a loss, still trying to figure out how to get Walter somewhere a lot less public. Luckily, her other ex was still beside her. As he gently took her wrist and guided her hand to Walter's, he murmured in her ear.

"Take his hand and talk reassuringly to him as you leave." He paused as the pair's hands linked and Walter seemed to be taking a break from communicating, concentrating on standing still. After Ron's swift analysis, he whispered to her. "He's got about another few minutes before he passes out, want me to come and help?" She stepped towards Walter, an encouraging smile on her face causing him to grin and turn to leave, pulling on her arm in eagerness. As he pulled her forwards, she swept her head back to her saviour, managing to get out.

"No. Thank you." Her small smile said the rest.

Ron watched the pair melt into the crowd and wondered briefly whether he should have let Walter continue exploding in the middle of the Hall. But no, what little satisfaction that would have come with Hermione's embarrassment would have been overwhelmed by mortification at her hurt. Turning, he saw the waiter and was about to get another glass of champagne, just for something to do, when suddenly, there was an explosion.

The ground shook, vibrating violently, people's feet twisting as they tried to stay upright; lights flashed across their vision, blinding and sending the guests into a panic, blue, red, deathly green. As soon as the screaming began Ron had dropped down low, wand out as he sprinted to where Hermione had directed her drunken ex. But the further he ran the more difficult it became to keep in a straight line, figures jostling, spells exploding and the screaming, faint and yet loud and everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye, whilst trying to push past a shrieking woman, he could see several darkly-hooded figures in the crowd and he searched even more frantically, lunging round the woman and coming to a small clearing near the edge of the Hall. Dodging a wayward curse, his stomach fell open as he couldn't see her anywhere before he had to defend himself against a hooded figure. Fighting desperately, able to see a glint of malice in a barely exposed eye, someone bumped into him and knocked off him balance. He felt his wand being torn from his hand. Suddenly he was on the floor, unable to remember how he got there and how to move. He couldn't understand why everything had gone quiet, why he suddenly couldn't see. And all he thought before complete darkness was…_Hermione, where…Hermione!_


	14. Fight

Fight

She had lost Walter almost immediately. One moment he was leading her towards the exit, then suddenly through the door had appeared cloaked figures flying out everywhere, flinging curses and causing panic. She had ducked as she'd grabbed her wand and hit a curse back at a figure, sending him sprawling to the ground. The reaction had been instinctual, her muscle memory directing her movements as she sought for an escape point, dodging attacks and trying to stay upright as people ran in all directions. Walter was completely gone, she couldn't see him anywhere and when she spotted a red head in front of her she sprinted towards them, a few others also running to the same place, escaping down an overlooked corridor. The ground shook again and loud cracks were heard from above. Not wasting any time craning upwards to look she ran forward, hearing further screams and shouts. Her heart was beating furiously yet her chest felt empty as she realised that the ceiling was collapsing. Throwing a protective spell over herself she crouched to the ground as the world caved in, sound crashing and exploding around her. For a while after the destruction there was a dark calm; opening her eyes she saw dust everywhere.

Once even the tiniest of movements had stopped, Hermione whirled round, trying to see where- Relief flooded as she saw him ahead but when Ron turned to face her, she felt like the walls around her were caving in again. It wasn't him. She hurriedly stooped to look at everyone's face, growing fiercer at every stranger when suddenly she ran out of people. Turning to look at the wall of rubble that separated them from the Hall, she felt tears drawing together, gathering up ready to hurl themselves down her cheeks. He wasn't there.

Harry was just saying goodbye to a tired, sad-looking Melissa when a patronus burst into the living room. Recognising it instantly as the patronus of the Director of the Aurors, Harry's insides went cold instantly, only a disaster warranted such rapid communication.

"Attack on Ministry, report immediately to safe house A for briefing. Be ready to fight." Ginny and Melissa gasped as it disappeared, completely unprepared for the information. The Auror set his jaw, turned to Ginny and interrupted what he knew she was about to say.

"No, you stay and look af-"

"Harry I know, just…Bring them back, okay?" Every rational thought told him that it might not be possible but he nodded anyway, promising with his eyes. Tearfully, Ginny stepped away and Harry disapparated, determined fire vanishing with him, leaving his love cold.

"Ginny?" The whisper didn't stir her from her thoughts until something clamped down on her arm. Jumping, Ginny looked down to see a weak Melissa, eyes burning.

"I think my water just broke." The red-head nodded dumbly before something snapped inside her, and she hurried to escort the woman blindly to the fireplace.

Hermione surveyed the damage. The rubble formed two walls, stretching as high as the partially collapsed ceiling, one protecting them from the attackers in the Hall, the other trapping them from escaping the building. Several other guests were tapping the rubble-walls with their wands, testing the strength of it whilst the majority huddled together, those who could heal helping others with their wounds. There was a small gap in the rubble, an unstable looking piece of wood from a ceiling beam wedged between fractured stone offered about two feet of room. Looking briefly around at the others, she gulped and readied her wand. Widening the gap by lifting the piece of ceiling, she concentrated through the groans of the wood and stone. Mouth tight, she scrambled up and crouched through the gap, vaguely hearing a shout from behind her. Reaching the other side of the wall of rubble she stopped the widening spell and had to flinch away as the wood crunched, finally collapsing and closing the gap. She could hear muffled shouts from the other side but breathed deeply, turning away and assessing the corridor ahead. It was almost pitch black but for a weak light protruding through the door to the Great Hall. She lit her wand and saw that despite large piles of stone and debris, there was a way to reach the door. She spared one final thought to the others before she walked alone into the darkness.

Feeling weary, Ron finally managed to lift his head. He'd been hearing voices and sensing movement above him for several minutes but his body had remained completely paralysed. At first, once coherent thoughts had begun to form, he'd thought that he was in a body-bind, but slowly he'd regained control of his limbs, along with receiving a sharp pounding in his head. His vision still blurry, he could only make out vague shapes, running and being shifted around. Blinking a few times he gritted his teeth, struggling to keep the bile in his throat down. Suddenly something hit him. Pain exploded across his left shoulder as the blow threw him onto his back. Wincing and trying to get his bearings he sensed someone standing over him and gulped, preparing himself to fight.

Crouching low after hearing shouting she felt her insides snake violently, coiling around each other tighter and tighter. Peering round the corner into the Hall she gasped at the scene. The people on the floor were being dragged in all directions, the cloaked figures dividing them somehow. Then she saw him. Ron. He was being pulled towards the opposite corridor. The two cloaks began to struggle to keep hold of him as he suddenly tried to jerk away from them, but even as Hermione felt hopeful that he was still fighting one of the figures struck him across the face, slamming his head onto the ground. He didn't move after that. They dragged him into the dark corridor. Using all the stealth she possessed, she crept and crawled through the shadows, trying not to think of what was happening to the other people being divided, over to the corridor. A door along it was ajar and creeping nearer still she could hear low voices. Suddenly, the room lit up and peering through the gap they had left she saw him; lying still, face up, wandless, completely exposed to the cloaked figures that stood above him. She briefly watched the figure standing furthest away; he seemed to be muttering some incantations to something in his hand. Not understanding, she turned her attention to the figures in the foreground, namely the form of Ron on the floor. Squinting, she could barely see that his chest was rising, but when the figure raised his wand, Ron began to jerk, back arching in pain. Hermione knew she should wait, she should formulate a plan, but as soon as she saw his agony, she couldn't help herself.

She leapt into the light and fought.


	15. The Most Important Thing

The Most Important Thing

Harry ran as fast as he could, weaving in and out of the Aurors trying to subdue the last remaining struggling figures. They'd coordinated surprisingly quickly to draw out and herd the figures into the centre of the Hall where they were picked off easily by the experienced and angry Aurors. He'd quickly scanned the terrified guests stumbling to the Aurors organising portkeys to St Mungo's and felt his stomach growing heavier and heavier. A few more bangs were heard as his attention was drawn by his superior's shouting. Curses suddenly exploded from one of the rooms coming off the Hall and Harry threw himself into the fight.

The figure standing over Ron was surprised and felled swiftly by her Stunning Spell but she had to duck as the other reacted quickly, a flash of red blazing overhead. Sending another stunner she had to cast a shield as he jumped to the floor, sending a curse as he did. From the floor he cast the fastest disarm spell she'd ever seen and gasped as her wand was flung away from her. Grinning, the figure was up again and she had nowhere to run, bracing herself for the worst and cursing her slow wand skills. She looked over to Ron and saw that he'd gone. Suddenly she was slammed backwards by something and hit the wall hard. Wincing as she fell forward onto her hands, Hermione tried to look up to face her end but her head was so heavy. Coughing and trying to regain control, she heard the figure grunt and shout at the filthy blood traitor to get off him. Not wasting a second, Hermione lunged and managed to grasp her wand and, before the figure could see her, stunned him with a bit too much force.

Grimacing, she still gripped her wand tightly, panting and eyeing the still figures on the floor. Hermione stood shakily and, limping slightly, wound her way through the bodies to reach him. The blood diffusing from his head darkened and clumped his hair, running down his pale face but Hermione thanked everything she could think of to see him push himself up and return her desperate embrace. He was shaking, small tremors in every muscle; trying to relax him she rubbed his back and was about to speak when he said hoarsely.

"Hermione, are you alright? You're shaking." Frowning, she pulled apart and realised that it was her that was trembling. She nodded and tried to relax, a nervous, quivering laugh worked its way out of her throat as Ron sat up further, bringing a palm to his head tentatively and wincing. Breathing out firmly, she reached up and turned his head gently, getting a better look at the wound. As she was healing it, her eyes spotted something else, a fresh splatter of blood on the back of his neck, running down from...What was that?

"Ron, what's this?" He flinched when she put her thumb next to the source of the blood but she moved closer to it, cleaning some of the blood away with her wand. It was round, a small incision at the base of his skull.

"Hermione, we, should…" He struggled to breathe slower, heart still pounding, but Hermione was distracted. Remembering the strange behaviour of one of the figures, she searched him quickly and found what she was looking for. Forgetting everything else in the challenge of a puzzle she analysed it. It was small and black, in the shape of a thin block of wood but made of some kind of metal. He had been muttering into it, but had he been enchanting it or talking into it?

Multiple explanations and scenarios rushed through her head. Was it a communication device? Possibly. Less conspicuous than a Patronus… Turning the thing over she waved her wand over it and discerned no communication spell she knew. Beside her Ron shifted. His breath was lengthening little by little as he fought against the raw tension in his limbs. He managed to choke out.

"Whatever they're doing, the most important thing…" Her head felt numb as she pulled at the thing and it extended, a small hook emerging…the hole in the back of his neck! She looked back up to examine the incision again but saw Ron's eyes instead, pleading. "Hermione! We need to get, out, of here-" She was held by his eyes, seeing so much in them; so much that terrified her. Gulping she nodded slowly, realising that she had no idea how to escape. He was going on. "There must be a trapdoor or…secret passage or-"

"Ron!" She silenced him and turned her head to the door. They heard bangs and shouting coming from the direction of the Hall.

"Do you think that's rescue?" Not answering, Hermione shuffled on her hands and knees to the door, and cautiously peered round, ignoring Ron's whispered warnings. From where she was, she could only see flashes of light but she heard a familiar voice calling for her and Ron. Smiling she felt a hand on her shoulder and sat back on her heels, feeling dizzy. Looking into those blue, blue eyes she felt her own close, but still saw him, if that was possible. He was saying her name urgently but his voice seemed far away.

"Ron, I-" Her head was feeling heavy and it was getting hard to think. He was whispering and then speaking loudly, his voice oscillating in volume like when her father used to tune the radio.

"Shh… don't. Let's just get you out of here."

"I'm sorry for leaving… I never… should have… left." Gentle hands encircled her and she felt herself being moved upwards. Close to unconsciousness, she felt the warmth from his body spreading through her arms to her chest. The last thing she heard was his soft voice, steeled.

"I'm going to get you home."


End file.
