Lost and Found

Chapter XII

Separation

For some weeks, Hermione did not see any part of Grimmauld Place other than the suite she still referred to as hers and Ron's. She Flooed everywhere she needed to go--mostly just to work and back--and sat in the sitting room trying to read, though she generally just stared at the fire.

She had also taken to sleeping on the sofa, wrapped up in Ron's quilt. She had tried to sleep in their bed, but after only about an hour, she realized her left foot was cold. As she was lying there thinking about summoning a pair of socks from the bureau, she realized it was not just her foot. Her entire left side was cold. Suddenly, it came to her that she slept on the right side of the bed, and Ron was always on her left. His absence had left her with a chill she could not shake. After another hour of internal debate, Hermione had gotten up and gone into the sitting room where she spent the rest of the night on the sofa.

After that, every time she looked at the bed she felt tears prick her eyes. The bed had suddenly become a large and imposing piece of furniture that seemed so very empty, and the void simply became insurmountable.

She did not know what to do about Ron. She had neither heard from him nor seen him since he left. The rational part of her brain had sent her to Flourish and Blotts where she had spent most of an afternoon looking through the very small section on witch and wizard relationships--which she had hoped no one would see her near. She had finally found a book she thought might be helpful, and made her way to pay for it, keeping her head down the entire time out of embarrassment. She did not want anyone to know she and Ron were having trouble.

The book, Relationships Gone Bad: A Magical Guide to Fixing Your Partner's Shortcomings, had turned out to be of no help whatsoever. She would not make a love potion for Ron and then augment it with a memory charm. This was the book's solution to resolving all troubled relationships between a witch and a wizard, and Hermione would not take Ron back under such conditions. When she had finished reading, Hermione had frowned at the book for a long moment before doing something she had never done before: she threw the book across the room and into the fireplace where the flames happily devoured it.

What a load of rubbish, she thought. Briefly, she wondered if she would find anything better in a Muggle bookshop, but the little voice in her head―the one that still popped up to remind her that these troubles did not only belong to Ron―told her that she would not be able to resolve this situation with the help of a book. This thought terrified her and left her in a state that had her snapping at people; the day before, her assistant at work had burst into tears and run from the office.

Hermione was sitting in her usual spot on the sofa with her legs tucked up under her and, again, staring morosely into the fire. In an effort to keep her thoughts away from Ron, she was thinking about a nice hot cup of tea, when she heard the sound of glass shattering.

Rolling her eyes, she wondered, What is he up to now? There was another shattering sound, and Hermione decided she had better get up and check to see what was going on.

Hermione had not seen Harry since the day Ron left. As she got up and walked to the door, Hermione wondered how she would find him.

In the corridor, Hermione paused and wondered where the crashing sound had come from, when she suddenly heard it again. Ah, she thought. I should have known. She headed down the stairs and to the door of the drawing room, where she stopped just outside.

The door was partially open and Hermione who, contrary to Ron's belief, had learned a little something of caution while living with Harry, peered around it to look into the room.

Harry was standing in front of the tapestry of the Black Family tree on the far side of the room. Next to him, on an old and ugly table, stood three stacks of plates. As Hermione watched, Harry picked a plate up off one pile and held it out in front of him. Throwing his arm out sharply and flicking his wrist, he proceeded to fling the plate across the room where it hit the wall with a resounding crash.

Hermione shifted a bit and Harry must have caught the movement, because he suddenly looked toward the door. His face brightened a bit at the sight of her. "Hermione," he said. "Come in."

When she hesitated, Harry held a hand out to her. "Come on. You have to try this."

"Try what?" she asked skeptically, as she took a few steps into the room.

Growing impatient, Harry closed the distance between them and grabbed her wrist. "Come on," he said, pulling her across the room. "You'll see."

Harry pulled her to where he had been standing and picked a plate up off the table, which he then handed to Hermione. "Go on," he encouraged.

Turning the plate over in her hands, she recognized the blue and white pattern on its surface. "You want me to throw this?"

"Yes," said Harry, seemingly pleased she had picked up on the idea so quickly. "Go ahead."

"Why would I want to throw a plate across the room, Harry?" Hermione asked. "And do you know what this plate must be worth?"

She could see he was getting annoyed with her. "Hermione, just throw the plate. Then you'll understand what I'm talking about."

Raising her eyebrows at Harry, Hermione carefully lobbed the plate across the room where it landed in the middle of the rug with a thunk and cracked into three pieces.

"No," said Harry. "No, no, no." He took another plate from the pile and added, "Watch me."

With the same curling motion of his arm and that deft flick of the wrist, Harry sent another plate into the wall opposite them. He gave a smile of satisfaction and turned to look at Hermione. "See?"

Hermione took another plate and, imitating Harry's motions, she threw it. The plate did not hit the wall as resoundingly as Harry's had, and it did not shatter into as many pieces, but Hermione had to admit that it made a satisfying crash as it broke and fell to the floor.

Taking another plate, Hermione sent it across the room and this time the impact was stronger. Strangely, she found a small smile breaking out across her face.

Harry must have seen it, as his smile brightened and he handed her another plate. "Shall we go together?" he asked.

She nodded and said, "On three." They counted off, and the two plates sailed through the air and crashed almost simultaneously.

"See?" Harry asked as they admired the broken shards of china on the floor.

"Sort of," responded Hermione. Turning to him, she asked, "But why do you do it?"

Harry shrugged. "It makes me feel better."

Hermione pondered that. She had felt some sort of release when she had thrown the plates. Perhaps it was some of the tension she had stored up in the past few weeks.

"For example," Harry continued, and picked up a plate. "This one―" There was a hint of anger in his voice as he threw it. "―is for Sirius."

Intrigued, Hermione watched Harry. "And this one―" he threw another one and she saw a spark in his eyes. "―is for Dumbledore."

Harry held a strangely decorated red, pink, and black plate in his hands. As he sent it across the room, he said, "And that one is for Luna."

Hermione's smile slid off her face and she suddenly understood. She watched Harry's face as he stood looking over the plate he had broken for Luna. Looking at the plate in her hands, Hermione was overcome with emotion. It was more than two years since the war had ended, yet here was Harry, his grief for those lost still as fresh as if it had all occurred yesterday.

With a glance back up at Harry, she saw he was gazing down at her wordlessly. His face was filled with anger and sadness as they stared at each other. Finally, he asked, "Who's that one for?"

Without a thought, Hermione turned and flung the plate. As the shower of fragments fell to the floor, she said, "Mrs. Weasley."

Harry nodded and handed her another plate. She threw one for Ginny, then Neville, and Seamus.

In this manner, Harry and Hermione continued to break the plates stacked on the table until there were only two left. They both thought hard before they threw them. Finally, Harry said something Hermione was surprised she had not heard him say before. "My parents." From his tone of voice, she could tell he was fighting back tears.

Hermione's own eyes began to well up. She could feel Harry staring at her as he waited for her to finish their exercise. Biting her lip, she looked up into his watery green eyes. Then, with an overwhelming sense of rage, she threw her final plate harder than any of the others. For a moment she simply gazed at all the broken pieces of china on the floor. As she did, Harry spoke for her.

"Ron," he said quietly.

She closed her eyes, and tears began to slide down her cheeks as she put her hands up to her face and sank down to the floor. As she cried, she felt Harry sit down next to her and put his arms around her. Without any further thought, Hermione put her head on his shoulder and began to sob.

~*~

Ron was dragging as he headed in from the Quidditch pitch. The Cannons had just won a very close match against the Pride of Portree after almost ten hours of play, and he was beat. Part of his job as Wally Wervin's assistant was to attend each match. He kept a close eye on all the players and reported his observations to his boss. There had even been a few occasions when Ron's insight and observations had prompted Mr. Wervin to keep a player or let one go.

Because the players were in the locker rooms cleaning up, Ron went to his office where his intention was to sit at his desk pretending to work until almost everyone had gone home. Then, he would go to the family waiting room, ostensibly to check up on anyone who might still be left. When everyone was finally gone, Ron would shower and then crash on a sofa.

Ron had been, for all intents and purposes, living at work. He had developed a routine of staying late and telling Mr. Wervin that he 'just wanted to finish this' before he left for the evening. Then, when a reasonable amount of time had passed, indicating that his boss had not forgotten something he needed to return for--which had been the case on more than one occasion--Ron would close up the office and head to the training facility. There he would work out his aggressions regarding Harry and Hermione until he was too tired to do any more. After a shower he would grab a bite to eat from the little kitchenette in the family room and then go to sleep.

Ron always made sure he was up earlier than anyone was likely to arrive and he was at his desk before Mr. Wervin's arrival. The first time this had happened, Mr. Wervin stopped short just inside the door of the office. Ron had maintained a look of innocence while his boss looked at the clock and then back at Ron, surprise clearly evident on his face. Fortunately for Ron, his early arrival had become commonplace rather quickly and was not remarked upon.

Settling wearily into his chair, Ron put his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few moments of peaceful respite. Living the way he had been the past few weeks had been difficult and trying, and the effects showed in the fact that he had lost weight and had circles under his eyes. He was so tired, and he longed for his own bed with his wife next to him.

He had tried not to let himself think too much about the situation. There seemed to be little he could do short of going back to Grimmauld Place and groveling at the feet of both Hermione and Harry. In his mind he could see the look of smug satisfaction on Harry's face as his former best friend said, "Sorry, Ron. You had your chance and blew it. Hermione chose me and we don't want you here."

Ron almost groaned aloud. His heart ached for Hermione, but he was resolved not to go back to her with his tail between his legs. He was still convinced he was right, and he dreaded the thought of what other injuries she may have suffered in his absence.

Hearing footsteps, Ron tore his thoughts away from his fractured marriage and rubbed his eyes. He opened them and looked up just in time to see Mr. Wervin standing in the door of the office and looking at Ron soberly. Ron frowned. Whenever the Cannons won a match, Mr. Wervin was usually in a mood that could only be described as giddy.

There was a moment of quiet in the office as the two men stared at each other. Finally, Mr. Wervin said, "Weasley, I need to see you in my office."

Uh-oh, thought Ron. I hope I'm not about to be sacked. He got up and followed the older man into his office.

Mr. Wervin settled himself behind his desk and removed his customary cigar from his mouth. He placed it on an enormous orange ashtray, where it would keep from burning down until he was ready for it again. Folding his hands on his desk, Mr. Wervin said quietly, "Sit, Weasley."

Ron sat gingerly on a short leather-covered chair. The arms were too high for him to comfortably rest his elbows on, so he simply set his hands on his denim-clad thighs.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Wervin finally began. "Look, Weasley, I don't know what's going on." He put up a hand as he continued. "And, I don't want to know what's going on. But," his hand returned to the desktop, "it's apparent that something's happened between you and your wife."

Ron sat mutely in his chair. He wiped one sweaty palm on his jeans.

"I had hoped that things would clear themselves up in short order and I wouldn't have to be having this conversation," said Mr. Wervin. "Since they don't seem to have, however, I have to say, well..." Mr. Wervin trailed off as though trying to think of a better way to convey what he wanted to say.

"I know you've been living in the compound, Weasley," Mr. Wervin said. "And while the job has perks and it's customary for the people who work here to take advantage of the facilities, I just can't have you living here."

Ron nodded. He was not surprised this had finally come up. As circumspect as he had tried to be, someone was bound to have noticed. "I'm sorry, Sir," he muttered, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"Don't you have any family you can go to, Weasley?" asked Mr. Wervin.

"Yeah," Ron said. "I just don't want to have to tell them. Unlike you, they don't stop asking questions until they have every answer and have dissected the problem from every point of view. Then they tell you what to do to fix it."

To Ron's surprise, Mr. Wervin smiled warmly. "That, Weasley," he said, suddenly looking like the grandfather Ron knew he was outside of work, "is exactly what families are for."

"I'll gather up my things," said Ron. "Is there anything else?"

In an instant Mr. Wervin returned to boss-mode. "You bet there is," he said firmly. "I'll expect an in-depth analysis of today's match on my desk first thing Monday morning!"

"Yes, sir," replied Ron as he got up from the chair. "First thing." Smiling faintly as he left the office, Ron realized how grateful he had become for the stability of his job.

Now, he could only hope for the same kind of stability from his family.

~*~

Ron sat on the back stoop of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and sighed. As he had thrown his few things into the small duffle he kept in his Cannons' locker, Ron had realized he still did not feel quite right going back to the Burrow. After a brief inner struggle, he had finally decided that he had two choices: swallow what little pride he had left and go home to his father, all the marrieds and their children, or go to George. Since there were fewer people to deal with in Diagon Alley, George won out.

The trouble was, George was not aware of his good fortune. Apparently, the single twin was out on a date and Ron was left to sit on the cold stoop and shift from cheek to cheek to keep his back end from freezing.

A quick look at his watch told Ron he had been sitting there for close to three hours now. He was wishing he had given in after the first hour and gone to the Leaky Cauldron. At the very least, he could have warmed himself with some Ogden's Old.

And here, Ron had been afraid his late arrival would wake George.

Sighing again, Ron rubbed his hands together, grateful he could still feel his fingers. A cold snap in December was never a good thing, in Ron's mind. It always made the winter seem so much longer.

He was blowing on his fingers when he heard voices and suddenly stopped. Looking up, Ron saw a glint of copper hair in the moonlight as George came around the corner of the building with his arm around an attractive woman with ginger hair.

Ron smirked and thought, Huh. Maybe he'll be the one of us who actually marries another redhead.

As Ron quietly watched, George bent his head to the petite woman and whispered something in her ear. She giggled, blushed, and then looked up at George with a sly grin on her face. "You'll just have to prove that to me," she said silkily. George grinned and pulled out his wand as the pair of them approached the door in front of which Ron sat. Neither of them had noticed him.

Pointing his wand at the door while still looking at the girl in his arms, George muttered the countercharms he and Fred kept on the doors of the shop and the living quarters above it. Ron knew that since he had a girl with him who was hearing those countercharms, he and Fred would change the spells the next morning. When it came to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, there was no such thing as being overly cautious.

The door clicked open and, after plastering an almost obscene kiss on the witch, George asked her, "Why don't we go in?"

"Thanks," said Ron, standing and gathering up his duffle. "It's bloody freezing out here." He took a quick glance to register the expressions on the faces on his brother and the witch, then turned around and walked into the building.

Once inside, Ron pulled out his own wand and said, "Lumos." The tip of the wand lit up, and Ron hurried up the stairs that led to the living quarters above the shop.

Ron was lighting the fire when George stormed in, minus the little redhead. "Well, thanks a lot, little brother," he railed. "I was just about to get very lucky. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get a date with Gwendolyn, there?"

Looking over his shoulder, Ron simply replied, "I left Hermione."

George opened his mouth to retort but stopped as Ron's words registered. "What?" he asked in astonishment.

"I left Hermione. I need a place to stay and I'm not up to facing the family yet," answered Ron, stepping back from the freshly lit fire.

George sat down heavily at the kitchen table and stared at Ron. "What happened?"

Shrugging out of his cloak, Ron pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from his brother. He then proceeded to tell George everything that had happened, from Harry leaving him hanging in the air in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, to Hermione being stunned and how he could not take anymore.

~*~

Hermione's cousin Brenna always held a tea about a week before Christmas. It was her way of getting the family gathered together for a holiday event since, for the most part, the individual members spent Christmas in small groups at their own homes.

The tea was held in the late afternoon and was served buffet-style, so everyone could eat and mingle at the same time. For some, it was one of only a few times they got to see each other and, for most, it was the only time they got to see Hermione. She tried to make it back to the Muggle world and her family on a regular basis, but Hermione was so entrenched in her life in the Wizarding world, that the visits were not as frequent as she would have liked.

Brenna's flat had, as usual, been carefully decorated for the event and she had outdone herself in regards to the food. Hermione had asked if she could bring anything and was told only herself and her husband. Well, she thought, holding a plate full of cucumber sandwiches and a slice of orange loaf, one out of two isn't bad. Hermione had told everyone who asked--and that was everyone--that Ron had, unfortunately, been called in to work and he was very sorry he could not be there.

The tea had been a rousing success and, as various aunts and uncles and cousins took their leave, Hermione felt herself relax. She enjoyed seeing her relatives, but she always had to put on such an act in order to conceal her real life, that she always left feeling drained. Add to that what was going on between her and Ron, and she was amazed she was still standing.

When everyone else had gone, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and began gathering up dishes and taking them into the kitchen. Another tradition with these Christmas teas, was that Hermione always stayed late and helped clean up. This allowed her and Brenna to have some time to bond. Gilbert happily took off to the local pub for a pint and left the girls to their conversation.

"So," said Brenna, combining two plates of leftover sandwiches into one and covering it with plastic. "What was the real reason for Ron's absence?"

Hermione was washing a cup. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Uh-huh," Brenna replied. "You may be able to fool the old folks, but you can't fool me. I know there's something going on. I can tell just by looking at you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked edgily.

"It means, you've lost weight, you look like you haven't slept in a month, and this is your first Christmas married to the man you've loved since you were a child, and he's not here." Brenna gave Hermione a piercing look that said she was not going to be able to talk her way out of this.

The two women were silent for a few moments as they put away food and continued to wash dishes. Brenna's silence was a determined one that said she was not going to back down and, from past encounters with her older cousin, Hermione knew she would not. Hermione had often lost a battle of wills to Brenna and this appeared to be another such occasion.

Finally, Hermione sighed. "Fine," she said, "but you can't tell my parents."

Brenna paused in drying a plate and turned to look at Hermione with concern in her eyes. "It can't be that bad."

Hermione felt the now-familiar tears starting to well in her eyes. "It is," she said quietly. "Please don't tell them."

Setting the plate she was holding on the counter, Brenna guided Hermione over to a chair and then sat down opposite her. "Tell me," she said. "Tell me what happened."

Barely able to get it out, Hermione squeaked, "Ron left me."

The expression of shock and disbelief on Brenna's face was the final straw, and Hermione buried her face in her hands and wept. Brenna was the first person Hermione had told, and the act of doing so had made everything real in a way it had not quite been before.

When she had calmed down enough to speak, Hermione told Brenna everything. Occasionally, she would peek at her cousin's face and try to read the expressions but, for the most part, Hermione just looked at her hands that she found herself continuously wringing.

As she finished her story, Hermione looked up.

Brenna was sitting quietly in her chair and looking at her cousin in disbelief. "You let him go?"

"What?"

"You just let him walk out like that?"

"What do you mean, I let him go? He left. He chose to leave, and he didn't even look back. Not once!" Hermione was starting to get angry. Why on Earth would Brenna have expected Hermione to go after Ron? He had been so unreasonable!

"Hermione," said Brenna, "can't you see what happened, or have you been so caught up in trying to fix Harry, that you forgot about your husband and his feelings?"

"Ron wasn't patient enough," retorted Hermione. "Harry would have been well on his way to returning to being a functional person again if Ron had just been more patient. He only saw the bad things."

"And you only saw the good," Brenna said, wryly.

"I saw the progress," Hermione snapped, "Ron wasn't capable of seeing it. I don't think he ever was."

At this cutting remark, Brenna gasped. "That's not true, Hermione Jane, and you know it. According to Ron, the sun rose and set with you. You just tossed him aside for a friend who, it seems to me, didn't want either of you around."

"Harry's just fine now that Ron's gone!"

"Is he?" Brenna asked. "Is he really? Then I wonder why he wanted Ron gone so badly that he would hurt you to get rid of him. "

Hermione blinked at her cousin. "What?"

"You heard me, Hermione. It sounds to me like a lot of things are going on here. You've been so focused on Harry that you've completely lost sight of your marriage and, from what you just said, Harry wanted to get rid of Ron to the point that he would use any means to do so."

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "You're mad, Brenna. You don't see at all."

"I think I see things a lot more clearly than you do," said Brenna standing up. "Now, I'd like you to leave."

"What?" Hermione also stood and gazed at Brenna in shock. Was her cousin really ordering her out of her house?

"You heard me. I can't believe how daft you are. You once told me they called you the brightest witch of your age. I don't think they knew what they were talking about."

"How dare you," snarled Hermione. "How dare you!"

"Because I want what's best for you," replied Brenna softly. "Now, leave and don't come back until you've figured some things out. Until you've returned to being the brightest witch of your age."

Hermione set her jaw. "You're wrong," she said darkly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

A few years earlier, Hermione had registered Brenna with the Ministry as a Muggle relative who knew her cousin was a witch. This meant that small amounts of magic could be used in her presence and Hermione, or Ron, would not get into trouble for it. Knowing that abrupt uses of magic sometimes discomfited Brenna, Hermione glared at her cousin and turned curtly on her heel, Disapparating with a loud crack. Hermione's thought as the uncomfortable feeling of Apparition washed over her was, I hope that frightened her well and good.

~*~

The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and Hermione stomped her way through the kitchen and up the stairs to the ground floor. The little voice in her head had resurfaced and was berating Hermione as she continued up another flight of stairs. She's right, you know, it said. Harry was trying to get rid of Ron. Why?

Hermione told the voice that couldn't possibly be true, but it persisted. She's also right that you just let him go. You could have stopped him. You could have gone after him.

"Stop it," Hermione muttered, putting her hands over her ears as her steps slowed unwillingly. "It was his choice," she insisted, petulantly.

But why did he make that choice? asked the voice. There was a reason behind it.

Hermione was chanting, "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" She reached the door to the suite and gave it a violent kick, grimacing as her big toe complained about the sudden abuse.

"Be careful," said a voice from above, "if you left a mark, I'm going to make you repaint it."

Hermione turned sharply and saw Harry sitting quietly on the landing above her. "Harry," she said in a slightly higher-pitched voice than usual. "I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," replied Harry.

"Yes, well, I was, uh..." Hermione trailed off, unsure of what to say as Harry continued to stare down at her.

"Abusing my property?" Harry finished for her.

"Not intentionally," she answered, her cheeks turning pink. "What are you doing there?"

"Waiting for you." Harry nodded to her. "Come up and sit with me."

Hermione took her cloak off and laid it over the banister. Walking up the stairs, she sat down on the landing next to Harry.

He looked at her critically before saying, "Merlin, Hermione. You look awful."

Hermione pursed her lips and answered, "Thank you, Harry. You're the second person to tell me that today."

"Well, it's true," said Harry, and the two of them fell into silence for a few minutes.

"Do you really think you've helped me?" Harry finally asked.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. This was the last thing she expected to hear from him. "Well, yes," she replied. "Yes, I do."

"I'm curious, Hermione. Just what was your goal in helping me?"

"I wanted you to be whole again, Harry. To respond to other people and life itself."

Harry gave Hermione a sideways look. "And you think you can make me whole again?" There was disbelief in his voice.

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well," she started, "not necessarily me alone. I mean you have to get back out into the world again before that can happen..." Hermione trailed off as Harry's expression turned into a glare.

"That's very presumptuous of you, Hermione. To think you can make anyone who has lost something, no matter what it is, whole again." Harry paused as the comment sunk in and then asked, "Do you think I've responded to other people?"

The first impulse Hermione had was to respond immediately, but she had realized after his last comment that she had no idea where Harry was going with this conversation and she had better be careful. But, as she thought about it, she realized that Harry had responded to her and Ron. Perhaps not in ways she would have liked, but he had still responded.

Confidently, Hermione replied, "Yes. You've responded to me and Ron."

Harry smiled. "I agree with that," he said. "But, I don't think the responses you got were quite what you were looking for."

"Well, I have to admit, finding Ron hanging in the kitchen was unexpected."

Sobering, Harry asked, "And life itself?"

Hermione did not even need to think about this one. "No," she said, shaking her head. "You would have to leave this house to respond to life."

"Exactly." Harry nodded. "And that isn't going to happen, Hermione."

"Harry--" Hermione started but he held up a hand and cut her off.

"No. I'm not leaving here. Ever," he said emphatically.

"But Harry," Hermione tried again. "Living here like this isn't, well, it isn't really living."

"It's good enough for me," said Harry. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."

Hermione sighed. She remembered having such high hopes that she and Ron could help Harry. Everything had seemed so positive when she had first had the idea and then, later, when Ron had finally agreed to it. Hermione sat quietly, trying to think when it had all gone wrong.

"How's Ron?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione looked down at her hands and spoke softly as she answered, "I don't know."

"You don't know? You haven't even heard from him?" Harry's voice was incredulous as he looked at her sharply.

"No," whispered Hermione.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry's expression change and he said, "You haven't contacted him, either, have you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "It's not like there isn't an owl in the house. In fact," he continued, "Ron left that little featherball that passes for an owl here, so there are two of them."

Looking up, Hermione asked, "Ron left Pig?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah. He's been nesting on Buckbeak's head."

"Oh."

They were quiet again. Hermione was wondering why she had not heard from Ron. Now that she thought about it, she felt it was odd that he had not at least sent for some of his things, such as his owl.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you let Ron just leave?"

"What?" Hermione practically screeched.

Harry ignored her tone. "Ron walked out and you didn't follow him. You didn't even move."

Hermione was incredulous. It was like the conversation with Brenna all over again. And this from Harry, of all people.

Shifting on the landing to get a better look at her, Harry said, "Hermione, I do a lot of thinking. Honestly, if someone was hurting Ron, would you just stand by and watch? You would defend him, right?"

"Well, yes," replied Hermione as she glared at Harry.

"And, if Ron was letting someone hurt him, how long do you think you could just stand around and watch it?"

"Not very long, I suppose."

"Exactly." Harry's expression was slightly smug.

"But Harry," said Hermione, "it was you. Not just some random somebody."

"And that," said Harry softly, "makes it that much worse. Hermione, listen to me. Ron left here for the same reason I left, well, everything."

Harry looked at her intently. She sensed he wanted to say more so she kept quiet as he took a few deep breaths.

"You know why I broke up with Ginny," he started. "I wanted her to be safe. As a Weasley, she was already a target. As Harry Potter's girlfriend, I didn't think she would stand a chance. Voldemort would have Death Eaters all over the place looking specifically for her."

Hermione nodded as Harry continued. He was gazing out over the stairs with an expression on his face that gave the impression he was seeing the past laid out in front of him.

"When Hogwarts reopened, she went back. So did Neville and, well, it's no surprise the two of them took up with each other. No one was allowed out of their common rooms except for meals and classes, so there wasn't much interaction between the houses. I had rather thought Neville and Luna might get together."

Harry looked at Hermione with a slight grin on his face. "As you know, hunting Horcruxes was very tiring work." Sobering, he continued, "What you don't know, is that it was also very lonely. For me. You and Ron had each other. I tried to make myself scarce as often as possible because I knew the two of you needed each other. But, it meant I spent a lot of time alone."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink. She and Ron had needed each other then. She had thought they were being discreet, but apparently they weren't. She had never realized, though, how much time Harry must have spent alone while she and Ron were taking comfort in each other.

She reached out and rested a hand on Harry's arm as he went on.

"Even though we'd broken up, I still thought about Ginny; all the time. Until Ron got that letter," Harry added bitterly.

While the three of them had been searching for Horcruxes, they had occasionally received a letter from one of the Weasleys or Lupin. There were some owls, like Hedwig, who could find anyone anywhere. Unlike Hedwig, not all of them were showy but were more able to travel unnoticed.

Hermione remembered a letter that had reached them just after Christmas that year. It was from Ginny, but it had been for Hermione. Ron, however, had gotten hold of it. Since he usually read all of his family's letters aloud, it had never occurred to Ron that this one would be any different.

Caught up in the reading of the letter, the actual content had not dawned on Ron until after he had read it. Hermione had seen Harry's face as Ginny wrote how she and Neville had become closer and how she had been very surprised to realize that she actually held a great deal of affection for him. She had even wondered to Hermione whether or not this was something that could be longer lasting and more secure than loving Harry had turned out to be.

His teeth gritted, Harry had muttered that he was tired and was going to bed. As soon as he was out of the room, Hermione had laid into Ron about being an inconsiderate git. Ron, impressed Hermione had actually called him a git, had simply kissed her quiet.

"Right after that," said Harry, drawing Hermione's attention back to the present, "we wound up in that wretched house on the coast that was falling down."

Hermione smiled. The house had truly been on the verge of collapse and more than once, Ron had commented that it had to have been held together with magic.

"I'm still convinced that woman, Mrs. McTweedy, was a Squib," Harry said. "I don't know how else she could manage to attract so many magic people to her house if she was just a Muggle. Anyway, you and Ron went off on your own again that night, and I ran into Luna in the lounge. She and her father had been traveling along the coast looking for some non-existent creature or other during the holiday. Mr. Lovegood had retired for the evening, but Luna wasn't tired. She seemed genuinely glad to see me, and we talked for quite a while. I think it was sometime past midnight when I walked her to her room."

"We spent a couple of days there. Every time you and Ron disappeared, I wound up spending time with Luna. She spoke a lot of nonsense, but there was something about how calm she was. How matter-of-fact she was, it just...soothed me."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both reflecting on that horrible year of traveling and hunting horcruxes while trying to stay alive. Hermione found herself thinking of Ron and how close they had grown that year. She was sure Harry was thinking the same about Luna.

Truthfully, Hermione and Ron had eventually figured out that Harry was seeing someone. After Christmas they had gone, at Harry's urging, to Hogsmeade a couple of times. Harry would disappear for a few hours here and there and, after he had returned safely the first few times, Hermione stopped feeling frantic over not knowing where he was. She had realized that she could not control all of Harry's actions. It was at this point, however, that she learned he was meeting someone.

While in Hogsmeade, the three of them would stay in the Shrieking Shack. Because there were very few people who knew that the building was not really haunted and what its original purpose was, they felt safe in staying there. One night, Hermione woke suddenly when she heard a loud creaking noise. Holding her wand in front of her and ignoring Ron's snores, Hermione had crawled to the doorway of the room she and Ron were sleeping in. She remembered peering out the door and seeing Harry kneeling down beside the trap door that led to the passageway to the Whomping Willow. A blonde head had appeared and Hermione had ducked back out of sight.

Hermione had tried to go back to sleep, but the murmuring voices in the next room had kept her awake. Not that she had been able to hear any of the conversation, but she was wondering what, if anything, to tell Ron. He was still holding out hope that Harry would get back together with Ginny after the war was won, for Ron had never doubted it would be.

It turned out Hermione need not have worried. Over the course of the next few months, Ron had received, and kept to himself and Hermione, two more letters from Ginny in which she went on and on about Neville. Over the Easter holiday, Harry had moved the three of them to another ramshackle pub, this one owned and operated by a wizard. While there, Hermione had observed Luna's arrival with her father, and it was later that night when Ron finally saw Luna and Harry kissing in what the couple had thought was a secluded corner. Hermione had been fearful of Ron's reaction and, indeed, he had stood there with his mouth open but no sound coming out of it. She watched him carefully, waiting for any sign there might be trouble. Finally, Ron closed his mouth and turned to her.

"Come on," he said, taking her arm, "let's go find our own dark corner."

Finally, Harry spoke again. "I always thought Ron would kill me for Voldemort if he ever found out. He was so attached to the idea of me and Ginny."

Offering a consoling gesture, Hermione touched Harry's arm. "Ron knew," she said softly. "We both did."

Harry turned and gave Hermione an incredulous look. "Ron knew?" he asked. "He knew and never said anything? Never tried to hurt me?"

Hermione nodded. "He was still getting letters from Ginny. She was happy, and he could see that you were happy with Luna. We all grew up that year, Harry. And that was one of the ways Ron grew up."

Harry sat quietly for a moment before saying, "Ron continues to surprise me."

"How so?" asked Hermione.

Giving her a studious look, Harry replied, "He keeps proving much stronger than I give him credit for."

"He's had a lot of losses," said Hermione softly.

"Yes, he has." Harry gave Hermione a shrewd look.

Thinking back to her conversation with Brenna, Hermione asked, "Harry, why did you want Ron out of here so badly? You said you didn't mean to stun me that day, but that you meant to stun Ron."

Harry smiled. "I actually wanted both of you out of here. I agreed to let you come live with me because of something Winky said, but I later felt it was a terrible mistake. It was too late, though, to tell you I had changed my mind, so I thought I would just try to scare you away. But then," Harry's voice faded a bit as he looked away from Hermione. "Then I got so jealous."

"Jealous?" This was not an answer Hermione had expected.

Nodding, Harry said, "Jealous of what you and Ron had." He looked back at Hermione. "Jealous that you had each other. The two of you were so happy and in love, and it just ripped at my heart."

"Because of Luna?" Hermione asked.

"Luna and Ginny," answered Harry. "Luna was the love I found when I least expected it, and she died. Ginny was my first true love, and she might as well have."

When Hermione did not answer, Harry continued. "I was with Luna when she died. Mr. Lovegood wouldn't let me leave. I wanted to. I wanted him to spend the last few hours of his daughter's life with her in peace, but he insisted I stay. 'She loves you, too, Harry,' he said. 'She needs you with her now as much as she needs me.'"

Hermione took a deep breath. She could not even begin to imagine what that must have been like for Harry.

"So I stayed. I sat on one side of her bed and Mr. Lovegood on the other, and we each held a hand. She opened her eyes just before the end came and looked at her father. She told him how much she loved him, but that her mother was waiting for her. She also said that she would be with him always. Then she looked at me."

Harry's voice was starting to choke up a bit, and Hermione kept quiet. She did not want to do or say anything that would make Harry stop telling his story. It was something she was sure he had never told anyone before, and he seemed to need to get it out.

"She thanked me," Harry said quietly. "She thanked me for making her feel so special the last few months of her life. She then told me that she loved me and always would, but that I should not let her death keep me from loving anyone else. That she had always known what we had would be short-lived, because she knew she wasn't meant to be in the physical world for as long as other people, and she apologized for not telling me that before."

Harry paused briefly. "She apologized to me for dying."

Hermione sniffed as Harry continued. "And then she closed those beautiful, luminescent eyes, and died."

"Harry, I'm so sorry," said Hermione, wishing she could somehow take away his pain.

But Harry went on as though he had not heard her. "We sat with her for about an hour or so and when we left her, Mr. Lovegood shook my hand and thanked me for being so good to Luna. I couldn't speak, and that was the last I saw of him."

Harry shook himself as though trying to escape the memory. "That's when I went looking for you and Ron. As I was searching, I heard a trainee healer commenting on how the Weasley girl was being moved to the Closed Ward because she had lost her mind. I ignored it at first because I thought it was the kind of thing the girl might be saying to make herself seem important. I was sure she was exaggerating. Shortly after that, I was walking down a corridor when I heard Ron's voice. I stopped and listened as he told you and the rest of the Weasleys how he had killed Percy and why. Then I knew that trainee healer had been right. And that was when I decided my existence had caused too many people pain, and I wasn't going to let it continue because I couldn't stand to see them hurting."

Harry then turned again to Hermione and, giving her a pointed look, said, "I hope you understand now why I won't ever leave this house. I've created too much pain for others and you're all really much better off without me. In fact," he added, "I've created pain for two people I love from inside this house."

"Harry, Ron and I love you, too. That's why we want to help you," said Hermione fervently.

Harry gave Hermione another shrewd look and said, "I don't think you should be speaking for Ron, just now."

Hermione drew back in hurt while Harry continued, "Don't you see, Hermione. I can't have the happiness you and Ron did, and I wanted to hurt Ron for it. That's why I left Ron hanging in the kitchen. That's why, when I heard you, I broke things and made loud noises, why I said those things I did. It wasn't so much to hurt you, but to hurt Ron. The day in the corridor, I watched the two of you painting for a while. I didn't mind the painting as much as I did the aggrieved look on Ron's face when you came over and told him he wasn't doing a good job. It was so obvious that he was only doing it to please you, anyway. That's why I tried to stun him. I got you because I was so angry that I moved too forcefully when I raised my wand and lost my aim."

Another silence descended as Hermione thought about how she had misread the situation. Harry had not only been stuck in the past, but her and Ron's presence had caused him to think about the last days of the war in a more sorrowful way than he already had been before they arrived. Their presence at Grimmauld Place had caused Harry pain. Her intention had been to brighten his days and make him see what he was missing by locking himself away; to make him realize he could live again, not to upset him and make him angrier.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted to try and help you."

"I know," replied Harry. "And I'm sorry that it hasn't turned out as you had hoped. You always think you can make the world a better place, and that's a wonderful quality to have. But I'm afraid it just can't work with me."

With tears in her eyes, Hermione asked, "Are you sure? Really, Harry, are you? Because it makes me so sad to see you like this."

Harry reached out a hand and placed it on the side of Hermione's face. Wiping away a tear with his thumb, he answered, "I'm sure. And it makes me sad to see you like this."

They sat like this for a moment and stared into each other's eyes before Harry removed his hand and drew back. "Now," he asked, "what about Ron."

Sniffing, Hermione asked, "What about Ron?"

"What are you going to do to get him back?"

Hermione swallowed and took a deep breath. "I don't know that I can do anything. I think it's too late. He's been gone too long."

"It's never too late, Hermione," chastised Harry.

She gave him a pointed look, and he amended his last comment. "Not for you and Ron, anyway."

Still unable to get over the fact that Ron had just walked out, Hermione said, "But he left, Harry. Clearly he doesn't want to be with me."

Sighing exasperatedly, Harry said, "Hermione, you are just as guilty here. Ron had a good reason for going. Can't you see that? And you did just let him go. You didn't follow him; you didn't even call out to him. You just let him go."

Hermione's head was beginning to throb, and she rubbed her temples and did not answer. Despite everything, she still did not think she had done anything wrong by not calling out to Ron, by not stopping him from leaving. Harry and Brenna both seemed to think she had made a mistake.

"Hermione, do you realize what you did? When you let Ron just leave like that?"

Giving Harry a sideways glance, she asked, "What?"

Softly, Harry said, "By that action, you told Ron that you would rather be with the friend who hurts you, than the man who loves you."

Hermione froze. Unbidden, words that she had spoken months before, came back to her. You always come first with me, Ron. You do know that, don't you?

Oh, Merlin, she thought. Harry and Brenna are right.. I promised Ron that and many other things, but in wanting so badly to help Harry, I lost sight of those promises. More than anything else, she knew it was that specific broken promise, spoken while she and Ron had first argued about the possibility of living with Harry that would have hurt Ron the most.

She buried her face in her hands. "What have I done?" she asked aloud. "What have I done?"

Harry patted her on the back. "Nothing you can't undo, Hermione. If you try hard enough."

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "I don't think I can fix this, Harry."

"Yes, you can," he reassured her. "Here. I have something for you."

She looked up and saw Harry reaching for something behind him. She gasped when he handed her the wedding photo, frame intact, that she had thrown across the room all those weeks ago.

Holding it in her hands and looking again at how happy she and Ron had been that day, she whispered, "I wondered where this had gone."

"I took it," Harry confessed sheepishly, and she looked up at him, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been in your suite, but I was worried about you. This was on the floor and the frame in pieces. After I covered you with that ugly blanket, I fixed it and took it with me. Looking at it," he added, "and how happy you were, and should be, helped me to be able to talk to you tonight. Maybe if you look at it long enough, it will help you find your own solution."

Hermione's gaze returned to the photo and she ached as she watched the Ron in the frame kiss the Hermione next to him. As she stared at the images, she resolved to do whatever it took to win Ron back. And this time, she would keep her promises.

~*~

Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was crammed full of people as the Christmas holiday approached. Fred and George were out on the floor answering customers' questions and talking up the products. Lee Jordan was rushing back and forth between the sales floor and the back stockroom to get items that had sold down on the floor that customers were asking for, while Ron and Verity, Fred and George's assistant, worked the tills.

George had listened quietly and in shock that first night Ron had appeared and had readily agreed to allow his little brother to stay with him in the flat for as long as necessary. Ron was grateful for both a place to stay and the fact that George kept his thoughts on the situation to himself. It was not that Ron did not value his brother's opinion, it was just that he beat himself up over everything as it was, and did not need anyone else to help him along with that.

The only condition to Ron staying at ninety-three Diagon Alley was that he help out with the Christmas rush. Ron was grateful for this activity, as most of his free time was being spent in the shop and he had very little time to think while he worked. In the few spare moments he had that were not spent sleeping, Ron wondered how Hermione and Harry were getting along. He had even thought about whether or not to get Hermione a gift. Damned if he was getting Harry one, though.

"That's three Galleons, two Sickles, and a knut," he said to a pretty, dark-haired witch in front of him. He waited patiently while she dug around in a small bag, looking for the money.

She pulled out a Galleon and a knut and looked up at Ron. "I know it's here somewhere," she said smiling prettily and blinking her violet eyes a few times in rapid succession.

Ron just continued to wait. This witch, Valerie, had been in several times and she always waited in Ron's line. When she was at the counter, she made it a point to take her time and make eye contact as frequently as possible. Initially, her flirting with Ron had been rather cute and made him forget, for a few minutes, that he was an unhappily married man. After the fourth time, though, he had grown tired of it. He was married and he loved his wife and was not interested in taking up with anyone else, even though he and Hermione were separated.

The two Sickles found their way to the counter and Ron, who had not done this before with Valerie, rested his left hand beside them while Valerie dug back into her bag for the remaining Galleons. He knew when she had seen his wedding band, by the way her hand that was rummaging in her bag, stilled.

There was an awkward pause. Valerie looked up at Ron and he allowed his gaze to meet hers. After a moment, she smiled brightly and, very quickly, came up with the two Galleons and handed them over. Ron took them, put the money in the till, and smiled politely as he handed her the bag filled with product.

"Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes thanks you and hopes you enjoy your items," he intoned.

"Thank you," murmured the little witch as she hurried out of the store.

Ron looked up and George caught his eye. The single twin was smirking at him while helping a teenage wizard buy a Christmas gift for his best mate.

~*~

Hermione sat numbly at her desk at work. Since her conversation with Harry she had been agonizing over ways to contact Ron and apologize. In her head this was always followed by her begging for a short amount of time after which, Ron smiled happily and kissed her and things were back to normal.

The voice in her head reminded her that this scene was not all that plausible, but she batted it away in irritation. I know that, she told the voice. Just let me have a few moments of fantasy while I try to work this out.

It was the last day of work before Christmas and outside her office, Hermione could hear the rest of the department celebrating merrily. She sighed. She did not feel like celebrating. She wished Christmas was over, as she knew it was going to be exceedingly lonely without Ron. Harry had become reasonably good company, but it was not the same.

Holding her quill so the feather end of it was against her temple, Hermione twirled it softly, distractedly enjoying the sensation of the soft feather on her face. She wondered what Ron would be doing for the holiday. For that matter, she wondered what the rest of the Weasleys would be doing. No one had contacted her, so she knew they were aware of the situation between her and Ron. She did think it odd, however, that she had not even received an Owl from Angelina. She had thought they had gotten to be friends and the silence disturbed her.

Someone in the next room began a rousing chorus of Deck the Halls and Hermione threw her quill down on the desk. There was no way she was going to be able come up with a solution to her problem, let alone actually do any work, with all the noise going on. She figured she ought to at least put in an appearance and, getting up and straightening her robes, Hermione made her way to the party.

Everyone was clearly having a very good time and no one noticed her arrival. People had clustered around the room in groups and were eating and talking while Everett Wishhart stood on a table singing loudly. He was being egged on by some of the younger, and pretty, girls who worked in the office, and he seemed to be vamping up his performance just for them.

Hermione went over to the food table and, picking up a plate, she eyed the selection. The sandwiches looked good, as did the pastries further down the table. At the end of the table was a large bowl of punch that refilled itself as it was emptied by the revelers. She looked at the punch suspiciously and then back at Everett, who had now launched into a rendition of God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs. She had never considered Everett a drinker, but she had also never suspected he would be likely to sing that loudly and happily from the top of a table. Shaking her head, Hermione thought, Sometimes people just surprise you. She decided to skip the punch.

Settling on an empty settee that had been conjured for the occasion, Hermione began eating her sandwich. There was an odd taste to it that she couldn't place, but after a couple of bites she decided it gave the sandwich a little kick.

Halfway through her sandwich, a co-worker timidly approached and asked if he could join her on the settee. "There isn't anything else available," he said. Hermione nodded, and the man sat down. After a few moments of small talk they found themselves embroiled in a discussion on some new legislation that the Ministry wanted to pass regarding Centaurs, and the party droned on about them.

~*~

Ron stood unhappily on the porch of the Burrow. Christmas had come and, against his will, he had gone to the Burrow for the celebration. No one said anything to Ron about his marital situation, but he knew from the covert glances and whispered conversations that stopped the minute he walked into a room--especially between Fleur and Angelina--that they were all aware of it. It rather pained him that not once did he hear Hermione's name. She had been part of the family for so long that it did not seem right to not even hear her mentioned during the course of the holiday celebration.

A few minutes later, he heard the creaking of the old window to the living room. There was quite a lot of activity in the living room, and it had warmed up considerably. After a moment, Ron heard the twins talking as they apparently stood by the open window.

"He looks terrible."

"All worn out."

"He did the right thing, don't you think?"

"Yeah. But it's a shame it had to happen."

"They never should have moved to Grimmauld Place. I knew it was a disaster in waiting."

"Git, Harry."

"Well, Hermione was wrong, you know. Clearly she put Harry before Ron. She's married to Ron, not Harry." Ron reckoned the single George would not make a comment like this and guessed it must have been made by Fred.

"Course she was wrong! All those years together and just tossed away. Makes me glad I haven't shackled myself to some woman."

Fred laughed. "Just you wait. Your time is coming."

Snorting, George asked, "You think so, do you?"

"How's Gwendolyn?"

George took the bait. "Oh, she's fantastic. She was so understanding that night Ron showed up on my doorstep. Said family should always be put first and she admired that I was willing to end our date early to find out what was going on with my brother."

On the porch, Ron smirked. End the date early, indeed. Ron recalled it was almost half past three in the morning by the time George and the little redhead had showed up.

Ron heard Fred chuckle. There was a soft thump and then, "Ow! You didn't need to do that."

"Sure did, brother of mine. You asked me a leading question, there."

"It was for your own good. You know you like her."

"Yeah, I like her," George sighed.

They were silent for a moment. "Think they'll get back together?" Fred asked quietly.

"I hope so," said George, sounding serious. "They belong together. I've never seen anything more ordained by the fates than our Ron and Hermione."

Just then there was the sound of a child screaming. "I think that's mine," said Fred, moving away from the window and ending the conversation.

Ron remained on the porch for some time, thinking about Hermione and what Fred and George had said. Ordained by the fates. I like the sound of that, he thought. I just wish it were true.

Behind him, the door opened softly and Ron turned to see his father step out onto the porch. Mr. Weasley looked up at the gray sky and then turned and saw Ron.

"Ron!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were out here."

"Yeah," Ron replied. "It was getting warm in there."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "And I'll bet you wanted to do some thinking. Am I correct?"

"Yeah," said Ron softly.

"Cheer up, son. Sometimes we must go through difficult times in order to appreciate the good ones."

Looking at his father, Ron asked, "Wasn't the war bad enough? I thought we were all due the good ones. A lot of them, for a long time."

"Well," said Mr. Weasley looking at Ron soberly. "They don't come when we expect them. Have you heard from her?"

Ron shook his head and buried his hands in his pockets.

"You know, sometimes it's hard to make the first move. It takes true bravery to stand up and say, 'let's talk.'"

There was a moment of silence and then Ron whispered, "I just don't know how, Dad."

Clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder, Mr. Weasley said, "You'll work it out, son. I have faith in you."

Quietly, the older man took a deep breath of fresh air and then turned and entered the house.

Ron stayed out on the porch for some time. Darkness had fallen, and he had sat down on a step when he thought he saw something in the sky. He squinted and watched as it grew closer. Suddenly, Ron recognized the object and stood, his eyes wide.

Hedwig landed on the porch railing close to Ron and held out her leg. With trembling fingers, Ron untied the small piece of parchment. It only took a second to read and the color leeched out of his face. Dropping the note, Ron turned on his heel and Apparated. Hedwig watched the fluttering parchment land on the porch with a single, hastily scrawled sentence, facing up.

Hermione's sick. Come home.

~*~