Disclaimer: I did not create any of the HP characters or storyline.

Warning: Book 7 spoilers. Disregards epilogue.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! I really do appreciate them, and I try to reply to most of them, but if I haven’t, just know that I really do love hearing from you!

I also have to apologise for the wait. My life seemed to have just been turned upside down over these past weeks, and you wouldn’t believe how hectic it has been. However, thankfully everything has sorted itself out, and I have once again found time to write, so I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Light was stretching her arms over the busy streets of London, piercing through the grey clouds to form luminous rays that stretched to the frosted, bustling city below. Down in Harry’s street, the scene was much quieter. A muggle car puffed and wheezed along the icy road outside his bedroom, sending the twittering birds on the road to soar up to a nearby tree for safety. The sun was now firmly establishing itself in the sky, the bright rays of light seeping through the curtains to kiss Harry’s eyelids, forcing the sleep to melt away from his eyes. He shifted in the bed, trying to cling to the shreds of sleep still attached to his mind, but the sun had other plans, and soon Harry was yawning, his emerald-green eyes sliding open, blinking slightly as he sat up in the now brightly lit room.

“Morning already?” Harry muttered, still feeling rather groggy from his early-morning discussion with Hermione. He yawned again, realising by the silence of the house that Hermione must still be asleep.

Harry pushed the bedcovers off him and stepped out of the bed, pulling on his dressing gown, which had been lying on the floor. He picked up his glasses and put them on, glad that everything no longer looked like a blurred mess.

As he walked out off the room, he wondered if he should wake Hermione, but then thought she might want to be alone for a while. Deciding he would just leave her for now, Harry made his way to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast for both of them: a nice filling meal of eggs on toast and hot chocolate, which he was sure would cheer her up. He didn’t pride himself on much, but cooking was something he could take some pride in. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had made sure he could cook well, because neither of them had liked cooking themselves. Harry guessed he could be happy that they had taught him that at least that; he didn’t have much else to be grateful to them for, though he did have to admit, his relationship with his family had gotten much better over these past four years.

Shrugging off such trivial thoughts, Harry brought two plates out of the cupboard and placed them on the table, just as the door to Hermione’s bedroom opened. He looked up, greeting her tired expression with a smile. She looked almost cute with her sleepy, brown eyes, and hair bushier than ever.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Harry asked, as he filled the two cups with boiling water from the jug. Hermione shook her head, giving him a brief smile, and sat down at the table.

“This looks nice,” she commented, her eyes watching his hands putting the eggs on the toast. Harry laughed slightly, and pushed the plate of food towards her, placing her cup of hot chocolate next to her.

“It’s the least I can do.”

Hermione smiled appreciatively and started eating, Harry doing the same. He noticed she looked much calmer today, yet there was still a strain in her eyes. She was trying so hard to be strong, but Harry could practically see the invisible tears wanting to fall. He knew the sadness she felt would not simply go away. Ron and Hermione had spent nearly four years together, and for him to think she would forget all that she had shared with Ron in one night was ridiculous.

“Has Ron sent any messages?” Hermione asked casually, after a pause of silence, though he knew the tone was just an act. He could see by the way her fingers curled tightly around her fork that she was worried, and he had to admit that he too was worried; it was only a matter of time before Ron found out where Hermione had sought refuge after all.

“No,” Harry said quietly. “I haven’t heard anything from him.”

Hermione’s eyes clouded slightly, and Harry thought he could see a small glimmer of tears gathering in the honey-brown depths. She put the fork down, placing a hand over her forehead, shielding her eyes from his view. He felt his stomach plummet with misgiving, knowing that somehow he was going to find himself in an uncomfortable situation. He had offered to take her in though, so he had to at least try to help her get through this; the problem was, he had never been very good at dealing with crying woman.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked gently, hoping that his voice wouldn’t trigger her into sobs.

Hermione shook her head, her hand still covering her face. She sniffed loudly, pulling her hand away to look at him, her expression so defeated and shattered that it made his own heart ache.

“It’s just, if he really cared about me, he would have sent a message.” Hermione explained in a shaky voice, her eyes taking on a brightness that only tears could give. “I said so many horrible things to him last night, so many things I regret, but I thought he still loved me…” Hermione looked away, giving a small humourless laugh. “I guess I was expecting him to come barging in here and take me back, or even just rage at me…but there’s nothing: no messages, no Ron…” She stared at him with a broken expression, her despair killing what light she had left in those sweet, honey-brown eyes. “His silence seems so much more painful than any cruel words he could say; as if he didn’t care at all…” she ended in a hollow voice, the tears now slipping down her pale cheeks, one-by-one.

Harry was surprised at what he was hearing; surprised that Hermione was questioning whether Ron loved her, and even surprised that it seemed like she wanted Ron to take her back. After their talk last night, he had thought she had made up her mind to leave Ron. She had explained how she couldn’t handle being with him, yet here she was crying because Ron had not contacted her. In some way he guessed he could sympathise, but he had to admit he found the whole thing highly confusing. That wasn’t the real problem now though, for he knew that Hermione was about to work herself into a fit of depression again, worrying that Ron had not loved her. He had to make her see sense again, and maybe even get her to confide just what the heck was going on in that brain of hers before he got totally lost.

He quickly stood up, his chair scraping back against the wooden floor loudly, and walked over towards her to kneel down next to her, his hands instinctively grasping her face gently. “Hermione, look at me,” Harry commanded, his green eyes focussed on her face. Hermione turned her eyes to him, her tears catching the light, giving a sparkling quality to her face.  “Don’t start double-guessing your relationship with Ron now,” Harry said firmly, letting his thumbs gently wipe away the tears on her face, a small, comforting smile coming to his lips. “Ron loved you, and I am sure he still does. Just give him time; you know he is in pain right now, and just because he is not talking to you, does not mean he doesn’t care.”

“But I-”

“What do you want, Hermione?” Harry asked seriously, his words cutting off any further objections.

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted helplessly, her eyes locked on his own, their faces mere inches apart. “I’m so confused Harry,” She admitted weakly. “Ron and I, we’ve been together for so long, and I-” Hermione broke off, a sob finally escaping from her lips.

“Listen to me,” Harry whispered soothingly, his eyes sympathetically watching her struggling to hold sobs back. “I know you’re confused, but eventually Ron will come to you, and you will need to know what you want from him when he does. Whether you want to go back to him, or whether you will stay apart from him; he has a right to know where you stand.

Hermione closed her eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks to bathe his hands. She silently nodded her head, but still continued to cry, hiccupping every now and then. Harry let out a small sigh, just wishing he could give her the words she needed to be happy, but instead, he tenderly pulled her into a comforting embrace, slowly rocking her back and forth gently in his arms. He frowned to himself as he held her, wondering where this would lead. Would Hermione go back to Ron? Or would she decide to stay true to her word and leave him? Harry guessed only time would tell…

Hermione watched Harry leave for work, a weak smile on her face as she waved goodbye. He disapparated with a small pop, leaving Hermione standing alone in the room, feeling rather conflicted with emotions. She appreciated how much Harry was trying to help her, but she also understood that he was not made of infinite patience. He could only keep comforting her for so long, and Hermione knew that she needed to pull things together. Relying on Harry to solve everything was not going to help her relationship with Ron, and while she had always naturally turned to Harry, she realised that he was right; this was her problem to solve, and she had to make up her mind on what she wanted herself.

She sighed and stared about the messy house, noticing the floor that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while, at the shelves that were lightly coated with dust, and the books and parchments scattered about here and there. A frown curled her lips, her brown eyes narrowing slightly.

“Doesn’t he ever clean?” Hermione mused out loud, momentarily forgetting her own problems. She sighed again, rolling up her sleeves as she pulled out her wand and started cleaning the house. If anything it would keep her mind off worrying about Ron, or maybe even give her some inspiration on what she wanted.

The living room area did not take long to clean, and Hermione soon had the kitchen looking spick and span. She stared at the door to Harry’s room, and wondered if he would be annoyed if she cleaned up in there. Deciding that he would probably not mind, she pushed open the door, her mouth falling open as she saw the mess strewn everywhere about the room. Really, she knew Harry was messy, but this was almost ridiculous.

“Harry, you really need a woman,” Hermione muttered and started moving things where they were supposed to go. She pulled back the curtains to allow the warmth of the sun to come through, and opened a window to let some fresh air in. Gazing about the room, she noticed the crumpled bed and walked over to change it, when she noticed something sticking out from under the dressing table. Frowning to herself, Hermione walked over and knelt down on the floor to grab what she soon realised was a photo album.

Curious, Hermione opened the black book, smiling slightly as she saw pictures of James and Lily Potter together, locked in a one-armed hug, as they smiled up at Hermione, occasionally giving tender glances at each other. The happiness they shared was so evident it was almost infectious. She could see by the warmth in Lily’s emerald green eyes- eyes that were exactly like her son’s- that she truly loved James. Hermione was surprised to notice that Lily’s eyes were not the only things passed on to her son, for her smile, so kind and gentle, was exactly like Harry’s own smile. In looks, however, Harry was almost a replica of the raven-haired man standing next to Lily in the photo. They had the same messy hair, same features, and, as Hermione had often heard, similar personalities.

Hermione’s smile faded as she stared at Harry’s parents. Their love had been cut short, destroyed by Voldemort, and as she gazed into their faces, Hermione realised just how young they were. James and Lily were practically the same age as she was now, and she couldn’t help but remember how only four years ago she had stood at their graves with Harry, sharing in the pain he felt for these two beautiful people. She knew how much it upset him to have never known his parents, and because of the war, the very people who had taken on those roles as parents had been killed. Sirius and Lupin both had died during the war, and Molly and Arthur, although they had always treated Harry as a son, were not the same, and she knew it. There was also a slight strain in their relationship ever since Harry and Ginny had split up. Though Ginny had moved on, now happily dating Seamus, Hermione knew that everyone had blamed Harry for the break-up, and still did. He had been too distant; he hadn’t catered to her needs, and while it was the truth, Hermione hated the fact that he was now more alone because of it. He had done so much for all of them, dealt with so much for them, and yet everyone seemed to forget that in the face of their own selfishness. Even Hermione herself often forgot what Harry had suffered for her, and it made her heart ache to think that she could be so thoughtless when he was always so unbelievably good to her. 

She dimly realised tears were gathering at her eyes, and wiped them away irritably, turning several pages of the photo album to hopefully turn the page on her own depressing thoughts. She was surprised to see a photo of Harry and herself; one that looked like it might have been taken not so long ago. He was smiling casually up at the real Hermione, while sometimes giving a warm glance towards her photographic self. She was surprised to see a similarity in the position they were in, for it was almost identical to James and Lily’s photo she had looked at before. She, just like Lily, was smiling happily, slightly leaning into Harry, while he had his arm wrapped protectively around her. Hermione was sure that the original picture had Ron in it, but he seemed to have walked off, and it made her wonder how the original positioning was, or whether she and Harry had always been like that.

Frowning, and feeling just a little confused, Hermione shut the photo album and placed it on the dressing table. She gazed about the half-cleaned room and sighed, deciding to just get the rest of the room done, and then she could figure out what to do later. She still hadn’t decided what to do about Ron, and time was running out… She was just so confused. She loved Ron- she truly did- but it just seemed like everything else in their relationship was dead. How could she marry someone who didn’t know how to communicate with her? How could she even think of spending her life with someone who constantly snapped, contradicted and laughed at nearly everything she did? It would surely drive her insane, but the very thought of leaving him made her feel sick. She remembered the way he would stroke her hair, giving her soft kisses when she lay next to him in bed; remember the way he would hold her and make her laugh when she was feeling upset, and yet, all of those beautiful moments were in the past. Their relationship was dying, slowly but surely, and soon there would be nothing left but regret and resentment.

“I can’t live like that…” Hermione whispered to herself, realising that she had finally made up her mind. She wanted her love to be like James and Lily’s, to stand throughout time, and to shine on forever, even in death. Their love was so true, so honest, and Hermione could just feel it in her heart that she and Ron could never be like that, because Harry was right, she could not change him. She would just have to accept that maybe Ron was not the one for her…

Harry took a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the many papers before him. He had finally finished his training to be an Auror, and was supposed to be working on his first case, but he kept getting distracted. Ron had come in to work that morning the same time as he always did, but he had not said a word to Harry, which was rather odd. Harry was expecting him to complain to him, yell at him; heck, maybe even break down in front of him, but the cool detachment he had shown the whole day to the situation was slightly disturbing. Maybe Hermione was right? Maybe Ron didn’t care?

He glanced over towards Ron’s cubicle, only catching a glimpse of flaming red hair now and then, as Ron shifted about his office area. It just didn’t make sense. Harry knew how much Ron loved Hermione, yet he seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that the woman he was about to marry had broken up with him. Surely he must feel something? Even Harry had been upset when Ginny had broken up with him, and he barely felt anything for her at that point.

“Oi, Potter, Weasley,” Terry Boot called, as he walked past both Harry and Ron’s cubicles. “Make sure you two close down around here, alright? We’re all heading home.”

Harry nodded to show he understood, but Ron merely continued scribbling at his desk. Terry gave Harry a ‘what’s wrong with him look,’ to which Harry merely shrugged. He didn’t think Hermione and Ron would appreciate him sharing their love problems with everyone. Shrugging himself, Terry walked out of the room, followed by a few other Aurors, leaving Harry and Ron alone.

Harry went back to flicking through his papers, only causing a heavy sigh to escape from his lips. He was just too distracted to work, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Ron did it. Glancing at his watch, he realised with a jolt that it was coming up to 7:00pm. He hoped Hermione had been okay at home by herself all day, since he knew it was her day off.

“You can leave if you want,” Ron said quietly, speaking to him for the first time that day. “I’ll close up.”

Harry looked up, meeting his friend’s dark blue eyes, and felt a foreign anger creeping inside him to see the calm expression on Ron’s face. In Harry’s opinion, it was not fair that Hermione should be beating herself over this while Ron remained composed.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” Harry answered, deciding he had might as well get this conversation over before he went back home to Hermione; at least that way he would know what to say to her if she asked about Ron.

Ron’s eyes flickered with discomfort, and Harry was relieved to see some emotion. It was disconcerting having Ron so calm and collected when he was normally so passionate and fiery about everything.

“Last night I had Hermione turn up on my doorstep looking very distraught,” Harry explained, watching to see Ron’s reaction. “Want to give me a reason as to why she would do this when she is supposed to be your fiancée?”

Ron didn’t disappoint, as his eyes flashed angrily, his lips thinning with frustration. It seemed his composed façade had finally cracked, and now fury laced his expression. “I’m sure she told you all about how horrible I am, and what a useless boyfriend I was,” he said with a snarl. “Don’t stand there pretending you don’t know anything, Harry, because I know she would have cried out her little heart all over your shoulder.”

Harry felt his anger rising, but he kept it in check, knowing that Ron had every right to be angry. “You’re right, she did tell me, but I can’t help but wonder what the hell you are doing sitting here pretending nothing is wrong, when the woman you love has left you. Don’t you think you should be going after her?”

“I don’t love her, and I don’t want anything to do with her!” Ron yelled furiously, though Harry could hear the bitterness in his voice. “She took my heart in her hand and crushed it in her fingers. How the hell can I love her after that?”

“She’s upset!” Harry yelled back just as angrily, finally losing his temper. “You’ve been a real prat to her over the years Ron, and you know you can’t deny it! I’m not saying it is all your fault, but dammit, take some responsibility, because you damn well can’t expect her to come crawling back to you when you are acting like such an idiot!”

“I’m the idiot?” Ron shouted heatedly, standing up to glare at Harry better. “She’s the one who sits there making sheep eyes at every handsome man she meets! She’s the one who nags me over every little thing, and she’s the one who left me in the first place! Don’t you turn this back on me, Harry; don’t you dare try to make this my fault, because you have no idea!”

Ron stepped towards him, his blue eyes glowing with rage. “I don’t care what you say to me, or what she even says; I’m not apologising to her! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger, but he couldn’t help but feel like punching Ron right now. Hermione was busy crying her eyes out over Ron, when here he was saying he had done nothing; never mind the fact that he had forced her to the point of wanting to leave in the first place.

“You’re a fool, Ron.” Harry said softly, his quiet anger coming through. “You’ll never get her back if you can’t swallow your pride now. She loves you, but listening to you, I don’t think you deserve her love.”

“Oh, because you know everything about deserving love, right Harry?” Ron said nastily. “Did you forget how you made my sister cry for months because she just wanted you to show her some affection? Did you forget how your distant behaviour made her look for love somewhere else? If anyone doesn’t deserve love, it’s you Harry, because you don’t know how to love in the first place!”

Harry punched Ron before he could even think of what he was doing. He hadn’t even realised he had stood up. He watched Ron stumble backwards, clutching his face with a furious expression. His eyes were like daggers, but right now Harry didn’t care.

“That’s it!” Ron yelled, propelling himself forward so that he collided hard into Harry’s chest. They fell back into the desks, both of them struggling to punch each other, while shouting insults at the same time. Harry took great satisfaction every time he felt his fist connect with Ron’s body and face, but receiving the same in turn was not as thrilling…

“What the hell are you two doing?” A female voice screeched loudly.

Harry and Ron broke apart, both sporting bruises, and cuts where the skin had split, allowing crimson to splash across their faces. Harry stared at Angelina’s shocked expression and felt a guilty look settle on his face.

“Well, what’s the meaning of all this?” Angelina asked, placing her hands on her hips. Harry sighed and rubbed the blood from his face, chancing a glance at Ron who was still glaring at him mutinously.

“It’s nothing,” Harry muttered, walking to his desk to collect his papers. He couldn’t be bothered arguing anymore. It was clear how Ron felt about this, and there was no way Harry could help someone who believed he had done nothing wrong. Hermione would just have to try and move on, for Harry couldn’t encourage her to go back to someone so immature and cowardly. She was too good for Ron; he could rot in his bitter misery for all Harry cared right now.

 “Don’t bother coming to see her because I won’t let you,” Harry said firmly, his eyes narrowing with dislike at Ron. “You’ve hurt her enough without making things worse.”

“Going to play the protective friend for her, Harry?” Ron said mockingly. “Or maybe you’re hoping for something more? I mean, you can’t get a girl any other way, so screwing a poor, vulnerable female should be easy work, huh?”

“Shutup before you make yourself look like an even bigger idiot!” Harry said coldly, giving an angry glance at Angelina who was watching the whole exchange with wide eyes.

Ron smirked slightly, though the bitterness was still in his eyes. “Whatever. Both of you can do what you want; I’ve had enough.”

Harry watched as Ron disapparated, vanishing with a loud crack. He sighed and turned his eyes to Angelina, who was now staring at the spot where Ron had just disappeared.

“Would you mind closing up for me?” Harry asked tiredly, now feeling rather deflated from the whole situation.

Angelina nodded, and Harry disapparated, feeling the world compressing painfully around him before he emerged in his living room. Hermione gasped as soon as she saw him, rushing towards him, her hands automatically reaching to lightly touch the bruises and cuts on his face.

“What happened?” She asked in a worried voice, her honey-brown eyes seeking his own. Harry gently prised her hands from his face and walked to the bathroom, opening the cupboard to find some healing salves. He didn’t feel like telling her what had happened, because it was just as embarrassing for him, as it was Ron.

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione demanded, refusing to be ignored.

Harry sighed and looked at her, the healing salve in his hand. “I got in a fight with Ron,” he said truthfully, a guilty expression on his face.

“Why?” Hermione asked horrified. “Was it because of me?”

Harry walked back into the lounge and collapsed on the couch, unsure of what to say. He knew telling her the whole truth would only make her more upset, and he was too angry to be sympathetic. Ron had hit a nerve with him when he said that he didn’t know how to love. Harry had often wondered that very thing himself, and hearing it from someone who was supposed to be his friend had made it ten times worse.

“Please don’t ignore me, Harry; I have a right to know.” Hermione pleaded, taking a seat next to him on the couch. Harry inwardly sighed, realising she was right.

“I confronted him, and we got into an argument; that’s all.” Harry said dismissively, inwardly praying that she would leave it there. He opened the salve, putting his fingers against the cool cream and started to apply it to his bruises, squinting from the pain, pausing when he felt Hermione take his hand in hers. He looked at her curiously, wondering what she was doing.

“You should really clean those cuts first before you apply the salve,” Hermione said softly, taking the salve from his hands. She summoned a clean cloth towards her, conjuring some water to make it wet so she could clean his cuts. Gently she wiped the blood from his skin, her face mere inches from his. Their eyes met and she gave him a small smile, before placing the cloth down on the couch beside him. She picked up the salve again, dipping her fingers in, before she started to apply the healing cream against his bruises and cuts, her fingers softly brushing against his skin. 

Harry stared at her face, as she healed his cuts, the anger he had felt now replaced by only sadness. What would she do when she found out how Ron really felt? What would she do when she found out how stupid he was being, and that her fears had been correct in the fact that he would never change?

“Hermione,” Harry said slowly, wondering how best to phrase what he wanted to say. Hermione stopped her gentle application of the salve and looked at him with a curious expression.

“Yes?”

“Do you think you will ever go back to Ron?”

Hermione frowned, her hand dropping from his face to her side. She stared at her hands, and Harry could practically see the answer forming behind her eyes. Raising her eyes back to him, she gave him a sad smile.

“I love him, as I only could having been with him for four years, and friends with him for even longer.” She began softly, her eyes distant as though remembering past moments. She sighed to herself and resumed putting the salve on his face. “I can’t be with him though. You were right, Harry; Ron will never change. He’s too stubborn, and so am I. Our relationship will only end in tears….”

Harry felt relieved to hear her words. He knew that this time she had truly made up her mind. She had been given time to think, and he was glad that this was her decision. After the spectacle Ron had made of himself at the ministry, Harry would have found it difficult to be nice about Ron to her.

“You’ll get through this Hermione,” Harry said, feeling an odd sense of deja-vu from the night before when he had said similar words.

Hermione smiled and nodded her head, this time really meaning it. “I know I will.”

A/N: Sorry for the typos and stuff. This chapter has not been read over by my beta.