Love Will Prevail

Ron sighed with both relief and dread as he heard the Ministry clock strike four. The workday was over. This meant he was free to go home, relax, get away from the hustle and bustle of the oncoming stress of the upcoming Quidditch Cup. But now, for the first time, he dreaded going home. Something was up with Hermione, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He hated being like this with her. He felt like he couldn’t talk to her…and that was denying him one of the only things he treasured in the world.

"Alright, Ron?" cheered Ludo, slapping him on the back.

"Hey there, Ludo," Ron responded unenthusiastically.

"What’s the matter, mate? It’s the weekend! Aren’t you just a little bit happy to be out of this place?"

Ron forced a grin and nodded his head. "Of course. I guess I’m just tired."
Ludo patted Ron on the head and chuckled to himself. "I bet it’s hard keeping up both with work and Hermione, eh?"

Ron’s throat felt suddenly dry and found he couldn’t speak. He just nodded and got up from his chair.

"See you Monday!" Ludo yelled at his retreating form.

Ron raised his hand in acknowledgement and walked out of the office. He suddenly felt a bit dizzy. At four the Ministry was an absolute nut house. Hundreds of witches and wizards were rushing to get home and the hallways were packed with hot, frustrated bodies.

He felt like he was going in the wrong direction. Everyone else seemed to be facing him, trying to move in the other direction, making his path extremely hard to make. What a day, he thought, I guess this is what a bad day feels like.

Finally he got to the front desk and checked himself out.

"Have a nice weekend!" the woman behind the desk cheered sporting a row of bright white teeth.

"You too," he mumbled and turned around to Disapparate.

"Ron!" someone shouted just before he vanished. Ron shot out of his daze at the familiar voice and turned abruptly to his right wondering what the hell he could be doing there, but definitely welcoming the voice.

And there he was, striding towards him…but there was something different about Harry. He looked extremely pale and his eyes seemed puffy. Ron closed the distance by slightly jogging forward.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" He asked stopping a bit out of breath in front of him.

Harry looked around warily. "Can we talk somewhere else?" he asked, his voice sounding raspy.

Ron was instantly worried and nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, yes, sure. Come on. Let’s get some coffee or something. It looks like you need it, mate."

Harry just nodded.

Ron stuttered on doubtfully, "Larry’s sound good?"

Harry nodded.

"Ok…" Ron replied drawing it out, "Let’s Disapparate. See you." And with that the Ministry blacked out around him and soon the setting flashed back as a quaint street-side café with a painted sign on the front — Larry’s.

Ron quickly turned and saw Harry standing beside him, his eyes gazing far away. They looked so sad and dazed.

"Harry?" Ron asked softly, not wanting to interrupt his friend’s reverie.

Harry jerked his head towards Ron and sighed heavily.

"Sorry, Ron. I’ve been through a hell of a day. Let’s talk."

Ron nodded and sat down in the nearest table. Harry slowly sank down into his chair and turned his gaze onto the near-by street. Ron thought he had returned to his little far-away place but was soon proved wrong when Harry started to talk.

"I know you’ll probably kill me once I’ve told you what I’ve done."

Ron’s head snapped up. "What?"

Harry’s lips twisted into a sad smile and he turned his head slowly to look at Ron.
"I mean, you won’t like what I have to tell you."

"I kind of figured that from the way you’ve been acting. Come on, Harry…just let it out. It can’t be that bad."

Harry looked down and took in a deep shaky breath.

"Yes it can."

Ron decided not to reply, since it looked as if he was making things worse. Another long period of silence followed. Ron just stared worriedly at Harry’s bowed head until slowly it was raised and the two men were eye to eye.

"Rose is gone."

The eye connection was still there. For a second. And then it registered to Ron what was said.

"What?! She’s gone? How? Was she kidnapped? Did she leave you? What, happened Harry?"

Harry bowed his head.

"None of the above," he stated blankly.

Ron shook is head in disbelief. What the hell was Harry talking about! Rose was gone? Where…what? He really didn’t understand.

"Bloody hell, Harry. Quit avoiding the topic. Just tell me what the hell is going on!"

Harry’s head shot up at Ron’s reaction.

"I left her. Ok?"

Silence.

Ron stuttered endlessly, mouth just opening and closing. He was trying to register in his head what Harry had just said. He had left her. Harry had left Rose. Harry, who loved Rose more than anything and would go through hell to make her happy. But he had left her. He must have heard him wrong.

"Wait, what did you say?" Ron asked stupidly.

"Ron, I left Rose," Harry stated exasperatedly. Obviously saying that was really making him mad.

"But...but why, you bloody fool!?"Ron said equally as angrily.

"Because it wasn’t fair to her for me to love her!"

"What?!"

"Listen Ron, I guess you knew that I went back to the elves a week ago. I suppose Rose told you?"

Ron nodded at the realization of the information.

"Good to see you back, mate, but what has that got to do with anything?"

Harry gave Ron a warning look and then continued. "Thuarthoniel died, Ron. She died. She’s an elf…elves don’t die just for any reason. But the thing is that she died for me. She was in love with me, Ron, and I couldn’t love her back. And that killed her. I should never have done anything with her. I should never have met her. And that got me to thinking about Rose. Ron, I love Rose more than I love life. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to her. I almost died when I found she had been taken by Mercanian. And he only took her because of me. If she’s involved with me, she’s putting her own life in danger. And I couldn’t bear to see that. I couldn’t bear to see that I would be putting her life in danger just by loving her. I had to stop it, Ron…"

Silence.

"Harry," Ron stated, "You were right."

Harry’s head shot up. "What?" he whispered in disbelief.

"You were right that I was going to bloody well fucking kill you when you told me what you had done!" Ron said with a sarcastic hiss.

Harry’s eyes darted down.

"Ron…"
"Don’t Ron me! Harry, yeah, I get this whole sacrificing your love for her life kind of thing…but really, Harry. You really aren’t being fair to Rose. She’s a big girl, you know. You don’t always have to act the ‘protective mocho man’! Come on, you and I both know that she knows that loving you is a risk. But it was a risk she was willing to take. She stuck with you Harry! She loves you! And here you go and throw it away because you’re so stupid and think you’re doing something valiant."

Ron paused to take a few breaths, but before Harry could say anything, started up again.

" I mean, Harry, life is short. You two had something really great, something really special. And you’ll probably never have that again. Was it really worth it, Harry?"

Harry just looked down at the table at a loss for words.

"What did she say anyway?" Ron asked with frustration.

Harry looked up slowly, a guilty expression on his face. "She didn’t say."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I wrote it in a letter, Ron," Harry burst out in exasperation, "I thought it would be easier for her to just read what I had to say."

"Easier for you, you mean," Ron retorted, "Merlin, Harry, that’s even worse! What did you do? Just leave it on her pillow and sneak away? You didn’t even give her a chance to do anything."

Harry looked away back into space.

"Badly done, Harry, badly done." Ron muttered.

"I think you’ve been watching too much Jane Austen," Harry murmured.

"Shut it, Harry. I don’t think you should be poking fun at anyone now that you’ve just proved you are probably the biggest moron on this planet."

"Thanks Ron, thanks for all the support. You are truly a great friend."

Now it was Ron’s turn to look down.

He sighed.

"Listen, Harry. I’m sorry if I’m incredibly rash and mean and being a bastard right now…it’s just, I can’t get over it. I don’t want to make things worse, but I believe you’ve made a huge mistake. Possibly the biggest mistake ever."

"Too late now," Harry sighed.

"No, I don’t think it is. You can still talk to her."

Harry dropped his face into his hands.

"I don’t know Ron. I said some pretty serious things in that letter. I doubt she’ll ever want to see me again."

Ron just looked in pity at his best friend.

"Then I just feel sorry for you."

***********************

Rose parked her car in front of her house mechanically. She just sat there in her car for a while, staring out through the foggy windshield. It was starting to get colder again. The happy days of summer were ebbing into fall and winter. The coldness swept over Rose — seeped slowly into her veins like a disease she was too tired to fight.

Cold tears ran down her face, but she did not notice anymore. She had cried so much her face had become accustomed to the wet streams of tears making their course from her sorrowful eyes down her pale, damp face.

She got out of the car, slowly, a gush of fresh air hitting her face. Her eyes opened wide for a moment, the tears frozen in her eyes, her sad trance taken back for a moment and a flood of emotions hit her. Sorrow, Anger, Fear, Pain, Loneliness, Desperation. And she could not take it.

She fell to her knees on the soft, browning grass, small streams turning to rivers of tears gushing out of her tired eyes. She shook with unkempt sorrow, quickly draining all her energy until all she could do was lay there on the cool, grassy earth and cry. And hope. Hope beyond hope that this was all a bad dream, that she would wake up and find Harry sleeping beside her, his messy black hair falling over his peaceful face.

But no. She felt a cool breeze swoop over the sky brushing it’s cruel fingers over her face. She let out a yell. It was muffled by the grass so close to her mouth, but it still echoed throughout the lonely fields that surrounded her small house. She knew no one would be able to hear her. She yelled again, this one choked back by a sob. She listened to the soft echo of her voice and shuddered. So much pain it held, so much sorrow. She decided not to yell anymore, not liking the eerie feeling it gave her.

She did not know how long she lay there, letting herself be slowly comforted by the soft blades of grass tickling her soggy face. Her breathing came in heavy sighs, and she felt somewhat better. She still felt empty, but she felt the worst was over. She had had her cry. And now there was nothing left. She did not feel. But that was better than feeling those horrible emotions she had earlier.

She got up slowly from the ground, wiping specks of embedded dirt and grass from her face and clothes. She gathered her things and slowly made her way to her house. That same feeling of hope struck her again. That if she opened the door, he would be there, sitting on the couch, reading the recent Wizard newspaper, or fiddling with his new broomstick, the Shooting Star 800, he so ever liked to polish and fix up.

She stuck her keys in the lock and turned with a feeling of built up suspense in her heart, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

It was dark. She looked around anxiously, but none was there. She sighed inwardly, her hopes instantly disappearing. The feeling of nothingness came back to her as she turned on the lights, squinting her eyes from their bright obtrusive light.

She crossed the room, her feet dragging along the floors, to her bedroom. She opened the door, finding the bed empty and messy. She looked at it for a long time, picturing where Harry lay…and also where had found the letter, neatly and ominously laying right on his cream colored pillow.

She then lay down on the bed, pressing her face against the smooth, comforting sheets. The tears came again, but she did not notice. She noticed the smell of the sheets, a mixture of their scents. Hers was a bit of vanilla and his was like fresh cut grass.

She slowly slipped off her heavy shoes and crawled into the bed, trying to absorb some of its warmth. But the bed did not give her any warmth- just filled her with a sickening feeling that something was wrong. Something was missing. She lay there for a while, emerged in the constant feeling of foreboding and finally fell into a restless sleep, filled with unwelcome dreams of Harry.

********************

Ron left the café in a really horrible mood. Everything seemed to be falling apart. The happiness that everyone once had was slipping through their fingers, even after all the trouble they went through to get it. He was so mad at everyone…at Harry, at Hermione, and most of all, at himself.

Where had he been when all of this misery had entangled itself in their lives? Why didn’t he notice it and do something to stop it? What the bloody hell had he been doing? Nothing, that’s what. He had just been involved in his own sodding feelings, not keen enough to notice the people around him…what they were feeling.

He kicked a Coke can on the ground, trying to relieve his pent up energy. He needed to talk to someone, someone who wasn’t attached to all this, who could just listen. Who did he know that was a good listener? His mum, but she was always so wishy-washy, and she would probably take Harry’s side anyway. His Dad, but he was always so scatter brained. Bill or Charlie would be good, but they were far off on their business trips and what not and he didn’t really want to disturb them. Percy was way out of the question, he would turn the discussion into a whole boring lecture on how Ron can improve his ways. And Fred and George wouldn’t take anything seriously. And then there was Ginny…

Well, Ron couldn’t really think about anything that might deter him from speaking with her. Except she lived with that prat, Malfoy. But he was probably gone at the moment. She was always very understanding…quiet when she needed to be, but always very outspoken and would surely give Ron her opinion. Plus she was a girl and could give him another viewpoint. And they were close. They were the closest in age of all the siblings. And even though as a child Ron always favored Fred and George, they were too involved with each other to give Ron all their attention. So as time went on, he and Ginny began hanging out more, and soon they were the closest of them all. They were good compliments to each other.

And so there it was. He’d go to Gin’s place for a good chat, get some of his problems off his mind. She’d probably have something good to say. He just hoped Malfoy wouldn’t be there and ruin their whole moment. That was the last thing he needed.

******************************

Hermione woke up from her deep sleepy with a heavy sigh. She felt somewhat better now that she had actually slept. She didn’t feel as teary and she didn’t feel like she was on the edge of a breakdown, anymore.

There was, however, as sense of dread lodged into her heart. Dread of what was to come. She didn’t know what to do when she next saw Ron. She seriously couldn’t hold her secrets back any longer. She had to be honest with him.

And Rose…and Harry. Oh, Harry. If only she could speak to him. But she had no idea where he was. Probably secluding himself on some lonely mountain, trying to take care of things all by himself, like he always did. She wished he would let her in more. She wished he would spill his heart out to her and tell her everything was wrong. But Harry had never been that open, and Hermione had spent much agonizing time trying to figure out what was going on in that messy, black haired head of his.

She yawned heavily, squinting her watery eyes. She squeezed a fear last tears out, ridding herself of her former weak state. Her rest had given her strength and now Hermione got up and looked around. It was dusk outside. Her heart jumped as she knew Ron would be home soon. She suddenly lost all control and gave way to panic. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? Would he still be mad?

She couldn’t think here, in this house. She felt Ron everywhere. She needed to get out, go to a place she could think. And yet she felt like she also needed to talk to someone. Hermione really liked to talk things out. Everything seemed so much clearer when they were said out loud.

But who could she talk to? It would have to be a girl, hands down. She could not very well tell a man she was pregnant and having an inner crisis over how to express her feelings and worries about her child and marriage. Some things, Hermione found, men just can’t relate to. They can try, and be really sweet about it…but you just know that they really have no clue what they hell you’re talking about.

She started pacing. A girl, that Hermione knew, that she could spill everything to. That was a toughy. She trusted Rose, but Rose already knew and Hermione couldn’t very well have a really good discussion about it for Rose had her own very very very bad problem going on right now.

She knew some girls from work. But they were all involved in their work and didn’t have much lives of their own (no offense) and probably wouldn’t care if Hermione told them anything ever again.

And then a thought popped into her head. Ginny! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Ginny was perfect to talk to! She was a good listener, but also very voiceful, and Hermione was pretty sure she wouldn’t blab. Ginny wasn’t like that usually. She just hoped Ginny was home. And then dread struck her again. What if Malfoy was there? I mean, she didn’t really mind his company. Actually she kind of liked it. He was very smart and witty and funny. But not now. He would probably make some snide remark and ruin her deep conversation about her life changing decision. All she could do was hope. If he was there, maybe she just wouldn’t tell Ginny, just make some excuse to be there. Yeah, she would do that. That was safe.

And so she quickly Aparated, not giving one more thought. Eager to talk off her load of problems.

*******************

The unsuspecting Ginny Weasley had had a very relaxing and luxurious afternoon. Much to her dismay Draco had had to go out on business matters…but she soon forgave him when he whipped up her own personal masseuse. She then gave him a long, sensually lingering kiss and got to her massage.

Three hours later she was sitting nonchalantly on her immaculate leather couch, just the right comfortability, an avocado face mask and cucumbers hiding her radiant face, sipping an ice cold raspberry ice tea. Life was good for Ginny Weasley.

And then she heard the familiar sound of a pop in the back of the room

"Draco, is that you?"

To her utter surprise she heard a disgusted sound and then "The bloody hell I’m Draco. Ginny, that’s disgusting!"

By this time however Ginny had choked on her iced tea and ripped off her cucumber slices to stare angrily at her brother.

"Ron, you bastard! Don’t you ever do that again! You scared the living crap out of me!" She stopped looking surprised at herself.

"That was tasteful, Gin. I see living with the :::cough::: elegant Draco Malfoy hasn’t quite rubbed off on you."
"Shut up, Ron. What I meant to say was that you really unsettled me, and you shouldn’t go Apparating into people’s houses without fair warning…especially when they could mistake you for other people."

Ron put on a mock proper accent. "Oh, I am tres sorry Madame. Please forgive me! I never meant to frighten you." He bent down, hands flying in the air, and kissed his sister’s hand.

"Cut it out Ron, you really don’t know when to stop do you."

Ron seated himself opposite her and shook his head with a grin.

"Why are you here anyway?" she asked curiously, her chestnut brown eyes narrowing suspiciously as she did so.

Ginny’s suspecting eyes, however, faltered as she noticed Ron’s face sink into a glum expression.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked more gently.

Ron looked down at his hands, without really seeing them. He felt sort of guilty telling this to Ginny. But he also felt that someone else needed to know, someone who wasn’t so intimately connected with them all…someone who could give an unbiased and practical answer to their problems. And the moment, neither Harry, Ron Hermione, or Rose were in any position to do so.

He looked up at his sister, and something twitched in his heart at the look on her face. He and Ginny had always been close but that caring and loving look on her beautiful face always seemed to surprise him somehow.

"Well, it’s about Harry and Rose…and Hermione." Ron felt somewhat crazy saying this, for it seemed now somewhat melodramatic. Merlin, his life was intense.

But Ginny didn’t seem to surprised.

"I see," she said wisely, leaning back in her chair with a small smile on her face. Ron suddenly felt defensive.

"Don’t look like that, Gin. This isn’t some stupid fight that’s going on…it’s serious."

Ginny tilted her head, that same smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, serious, I see. So what is the problem, Ron?"

Ron rolled his eyes and dropped his head down defeatedly.

"You know, Gin, I really thought you might have been of some help…but OH NO…you just have to go on and make me look stupid."
Ginny’s smile faded, and she touched Ron’s hand.

"I’m sorry, Ron. I was just being stupid. It just seems like this happens a lot…but I could be wrong. Just tell me, I promise I won’t make fun of you."

Ron lifted his head up slowly with a sarcastic look on his face.

"Thanks." He said tersely.

Ginny leaned back with an expectant look on her face so Ron began.

"Harry broke up with Rose…and it’s really bad. I mean, Harry thinks he did the right thing. He thinks that he’s protecting her or something, which is absolutely bollocks! For Merlin’s sake, he just left her a letter. He didn’t even have the guts to do it to her face. And I haven’t even seen Rose yet. She must be really upset. And he’s really called it off. I don’t know where the hell he’s going now. He told her not to contact him."

He stopped to take a breath and looked at Ginny. She was leaning back in her chair, her face blank.

"So," Ron started expectantly, "What do you think, oh wise one?"
She tilted her head to the side again in thought. Ron thought it was a very cute trademark, but his thoughts were interrupted.

"Well, I agree with you on that Harry must have gone completely bonkers when he decided to break things off. And I’m pretty sure I have faith in him to realize his stupidity and come back to her. But what I am worried about is Rose."

Ron leaned back and rubbed his chin. He realized he had forgotten to shave that morning for he felt a rough stubble against his fingers.

"Yeah, I know…maybe Hermione has talked to her."

"You also said something about Hermione earlier," Ginny prodded, "What is the problem with her?"

Ron averted his eyes, focusing his mind on this other matter — more dear to his heart.

"She’s acting funny," Ron said, drawing out his words as his mind reeled in thought.

"How so?"

Ron looked up. "I don’t know…she’s so moody all the time. She’s sweet and loving sometimes but then she just might switch to anger and then depression. I mean, Ginny, I’ve hardly ever seen Hermione cry and now it seems like she’s always on the brink of tears." He paused, dreading his next sentence. "It’s as if she’s keeping something from me. And I just feel so clueless."

He felt Ginny’s hand on his and he grabbed it, glad of the caring feeling he received from it.

"That’s really odd, Ron," she said seriously, "Have you had any fights? Have done anything?"

"Not anything that I know of!" he said loudly in defense. "I mean, the other night we sort of had a little row…she kept questioning whether I really loved her…and I told her the truth…that she was my world and I would love her forever. And then she just kept acting weird…"

"What do you mean weird…?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Ummm…she didn’t seem to get that it was only her I loved. She kept saying things like ‘just me?’."

"Maybe she was just feeling insecure," Ginny offered.

"That’s not likely. Hermione is one of the most confident people I know."
"Maybe not in love, Ron."

Ron sighed and then remembered. "And she also mentioned the future. I think that’s where I went wrong because I told her I hadn’t really thought about it that much. I’ve just been so caught up in the moment."

Ginny’s eyes flew up, as if she suddenly realized something.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Ginny chuckled. "Ron…are you that dense? The future? She’s concerned about your future."

"Right…so…?"

Ginny scoffed in impatience. "So…what do happily dating couples think about doing in the future?"

Ron’s eyes flashed up to her face in understanding.

"Yes, Ron, good. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that is what she must be implying."

Ron’s eyes slowly drooped down.

"Gin, I’ve thought about marrying Hermione practically every day of my life."

Ginny looked surprised. "What? Then why don’t you ask her?"

"Because Hermione’s not that type of woman! She’s said a hundred times she doesn’t want to rush into marriage. She feels it’s too confining. I mean…she may be talking about something else when she says the future…like moving, or work, or…"

"Ron…"

"What?"

"Give Hermione a chance at least. Who knows…her ideas might have changed! These things often happen when you fall madly in love. Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to get married."
Ron shook his head forcibly. "No, I can assure you that’s not it, Ginny. I think you’d know me better than to say that. I mean, my God, I come from a family that’s identity is practically based on all marriage, on making the family bigger…bringing more life and happiness to us and sharing our already made joy. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to contribute to that…bring my own little Weasleys into the family. Bring Hermione into the family. I feel like marriage would be a solid link between us. We already love each other…and will love each other for forever, but this will be hard proof of it. I want the world to know! Hermione is mine forever…we belong to each other. Nothing would make me happier than to marry her...for her to be my wife. I love her, Ginny, and will always love her. And I will never be complete if she is not beside me forever."

Ginny and Ron both turned sharply around when they heard a soft sob behind them.

"Ron."

Ron knew that voice. He would always know that voice. He would always love that voice. His heart melted as he beheld Hermione standing in the foyer, happy tears and a brilliant smile glowing on her beautiful face.

**********************

Rose awoke slowly to the early morning sunrise, hardly feeling rested at all. Her sleep was light and feverish — full of regret and nightmares. She felt sick and empty. The usually beautiful sunrise just filled her with a greater sense of loneliness. It seemed out of place. It needed to be raining or something.

She sighed and shifted smothering her face in the sleepy pillow. Her face ached from crying so much and felt tight from tear after tear drying on its pale surface. She felt horrible. She wanted to jump into a crystal clear river and be cleansed…but she lacked the conviction and energy. What was the point in doing anything, anyway? What was the point of life if it was just to turn out miserable? Why should we care about anything if the things we care about turn against us and hurt us?

Rose pondered these questions over and over, emerging herself into a soggy depression. She needed to get out of bed…she needed to do something. She needed to get her mind off of him. She rolled out of bed and pulled a coarse wool sweater over her pajamas. She shivered at the unexpected cold, but embraced the outward feeling, it took her mind away from her internal ones.

She made her way into the kitchen, taking out an old coffee-stained mug and put some water on the stove. She closed her eyes in wait for it to boil and when she opened them she saw her piano, sitting grandly across the room. Maybe that would bring her peace, it usually did.

She made her way across the room and seated herself at the familiar wooden bench. She placed her fingers on the cool ivory keys, took in a deep breath, and began to play. It was one of the only songs she had memorized. It was French and pretty. It sounded like water lightly cascading in a waterfall, lovers meeting for the first time. It was airy and sweet. Rose closed her eyes, emersing herself in its happy melody. She pictured a clear bubbling stream, roses in their prettiest bloom, lovers walking down a street, holding hands. And then she pictured him, his black hair falling beautifully across his face, his glasses softening the intense green of his enchanting eyes. Harry.

She faltered and hit a wrong note. Her hands stopped playing, horrified at the ugly interruption of the beautiful music. Rose felt a surge or anger boil inside of her and she pounded on the piano, a pang of sharp keys blending meanly together. She winced and let the horrible sound die down into silence. But it still rang in her ears. The room was filled with bitterness. Her water started to boil, the high pitched scream of the kettle biting into her already aching nerves.

She jumped up from the bench and ran to the kitchen, tensely turning off the stove. She then strode to her room and found her small suitcase. It had been many places, but this was to be it’s most melancholy journey. She placed in it a few pairs of cloths, some toiletries, a book, and some music. She quickly got dressed, pulling on some comfortable jeans and sweeping her unkempt hair into a loose bun.

She grabbed her wallet and a coat and made her way outside. The sunrise had nearly faded, leaving a teasing tint of yellow — pink. She turned to her house and looked at it steadily, a look of stern admiration in her eyes. She nodded her head and locked the door, her mind set. She needed to get out of there. She needed to drive away…far away. She needed to be with people she could relate to. She needed to be away from all things that reminded her of him. Rose needed to heal herself.

She got into her old car and started the engine, her mind empty, not thinking of where to go or who to see. She just pressed on the accelerator and left. A tear fell from her determined eye as her past slipped slowly past.

*********************

Harry reasoned his office had to be one of the gloomiest ones ever. The Unmentionable section of the Ministry was located deep in it’s dungeons — dungeons no one but certain authorized wizards knew about.

Harry had been given a nice three week holiday after his work with the elves, but then it was back to the drudgery of his office. He didn’t usually feel this way. He usually loved his job, the excitement it brought him, how it exhilarated him to come into this secret headquarters and hear the new day’s task. But now, everything just seemed to have slipped into a boring lull. Nothing was going on…no missions, no excitement. All that was left was paperwork and research and the occasional lucky days of training.

Right now he was seated at his large dark rosewood desk, staring at a newly published essay on the ethics of Hungry. He never really understood why he was made to read this stuff, but his boss Kelvy Sinclair had sternly remarked that any information can come in handy in the spy business.

Harry sighed and pushed the essay away. Was this all he was given to get his mind off her? How the hell was he supposed to concentrate? He knew it was his own fault, but he felt like blaming it on someone else for a time.

He silently thanked Merlin, however, that the sotry of their breakup hadn’t reached the press yet. It exploded when it had found they had gotten together. "The Greatest Wizard of Our Generation, Harry Potter In Love with a Muggle." He shuddered at the thought of those headlines. How they had hurt her. She never said it openly, but he could tell from the look in her eye as she read those words, how they called her a muggle, how she had no real meaning or existence to them except that she was different, that she was not as good as them.

And now they were going to have a field day. The love was not real after all. Muggles and Wizard cannot have relationships. He could guess their conclusions.

He wondered what she was doing now. He used to always feel somehow connected to her, like he could always tell how she was doing, even when they were far away. It scared him sometimes and he wondered if she felt it too. But at the time, he didn’t feel any thing at all. It was like everything had been severed, and all that was left was a dead unfeeling emotion. It sent a shiver down his spine.

He looked at the clock on the moist dungeon wall. It was five o’clock — he could go home. But where was home? Ron and Hermione's? He shrugged his shoulders dreading to go there…especially after his row with Ron earlier. But they were his best friends in the whole wide world, and he felt at a time like this, he needed to be with them, needed their advice and comfort.

And so he Disapparated without another thought, escaping once again into another place of hopeful security.

*********************

Ron stood up slowly as he beheld Hermione, standing weakly in the foyer. She never looked more beautiful than she did now. Promptly forgetting Ginny, or even where in the heck he was he stumbled out of his chair and across the room to face the woman he loved.

Ginny more than new this was her cue to leave, not wanting to impede on such a private moment as this. She smiled brilliants and giggled to herself as she quickly got up from her chair and tiptoed out of the room, just as Ron met Hermione face to face.

Ron didn’t know what to say. He figured Hermione had heard that whole speech he had just given, and didn’t know what sort of reaction she was going to make. Right now she was just sort of staring at him, her beautiful brown eyes glistening where her tears had been.

"Hermione," he started, but was cut off when she pulled him into a loving kiss.

Ron let himself get pulled in for a moment. The kiss was full of passion and sunshine. It was on e of the best kisses they had had in a long time — this one seemed to be full of the truth they had been to afraid to express before.

When they pulled apart, both of them were smiling.

"Wow," Ron breathed, "Haven’t seen you do that in a while."

Hermione chuckled. "I’m sorry, it’s just I couldn’t help myself. After hearing what you just said, I realized how completely and utterly lucky I am to have you…and how selfish I’ve been."

Ron shook his head and kissed Hermione on the forehead sweetly. "You could never be selfish, love." He leaned back and took her small, white hands in his. "But, uhhh…about what you heard me say just now…ummm…"

Ron didn’t have time to think except that suddenly realize that this was the moment to ask her. Of all moments, this was perfect. And so to both of their utter delight and happiness Ron bent down on one knee, held Hermione’s lithe hand in is and looked up into her glowing face.

"Ron," Hermione whispered somewhat frantically, tears building up in her bright eyes again.

"Shhh, Hermione, I’ve been wanting to do this practically ever since I’ve met you…and finally I believe this is the right time. Hermione, I love you, and I will love you forever. Never doubt that. I want to be yours forever, never to let you leave my side. You are the most beautiful, intelligent, and amazing woman I have ever met, and it would make me the happiest wizard on this earth if you would be my wife. Will you marry me, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione dropped Ron’s hand and stumbled back a pace, her breath coming out in rasps of choked breath. She knew that this moment would come. She knew it when he bent down just that moment. But those last words still took a gigantic blow to her.

"Ron," she breathed, "I don’t know what to say, but…but…"

She looked at his face, now turning doubtful with her sudden awkwardness. "But, yes, Ron! Yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

She laughed out loud as Ron nearly jumped to his feet and embraced her tightly whirling her around, all the while laughing himself. When the pulled apart she saw tears on his face as well.

Now it was her turn.

She wrapped her happy fingers around his face and looked deep into his eyes.

"I love you so much, darling," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he returned with an ignorant smile.

"And there is something I must tell you…that I have meant to tell you for quite some time now, I just wanted to wait for the right moment. And this is the right moment."

Ron didn’t say anything but just looked back at her, his wild blue eyes boring into hers with his curious intensity.

"We are going to have a baby."

Those seven words came out and hung in the air. Both Hermione and Ron just stopped breathing for a moment and let those impactful words sink in.

"What?" Ron stuttered, looking bewildered.

For a second Hermione felt scared, horribly scared that this is not what he had wanted at all.

But then Ron smiled. It was the happiest, most beautiful smile Hermione had ever seen.

"A baby, Hermione? You’re going to have a baby?"

Hermione smiled back, tears streaming down her face again, her hands stoking his lit up face.

"Yes, Ron, yes. I am going to have a baby."

"We’re going to have a baby!" He shouted. Breaking from her touch and running around the room, jumping over furniture, leaping randomly in the air. "I’m going to be a father, Ginny! Me, Ron Weasley, a father!"

Ginny popped out of an adjoining room with Draco. Ginny sporting a smile nearly equal to Ron’s and Draco with a smug look on his face, obviously delighting in the fact that Ron was making such a fool out of himself. But in his pale blue eyes, you could see happiness for the couple.

Ron stopped his joyous parade around the room and halted before Hermione. The two just stared at each other, Ron panting, out of breath, cheeks lit up with a glowing red shine. And Hermione looking beautiful, the mother-to-be, her eyes shining in the presence of her one beloved.

And then Ron bent down, swooped Hermione up into his arms, and kissed her. He kissed her like he had never kissed her before, nor knew he could. A whole new part of himself opened up in that moment. And for that moment, he truly was the happiest man alive in this world.