I am a huge Ronmione shipper, but I often feel that the first part of their relationship might have been tough – although Ron had finally matured enough for a relationship with Hermione and she had chilled enough to have a bit more patience with him, even the strongest of relationships can be tested at times of sorrow and devastation. And the outcome of the Battle of Hogwarts was just the rotting cherry on top of a long and agonising childhood for Ron and his friends – so although I don't believe they would be apart for as long as the following story suggests – I do think it would be a tumultuous start – but then again, what else could they expect after 7 years of regular and heated arguments and misunderstandings!

Feel free to review! Enjoy!

Hermione dropped heavily onto the chair. Matthew had just walked out. For good. She'd come home after a really long day at work and was looking forward to a glass of wine and their Thursday night takeaway whilst no doubt listening to the quidditch match on the wizarding wireless. Instead, she'd walked into the kitchen to find a note from Matthew saying he had left. They'd been together for 3 years and he'd moved in about 6 months ago. She hadn't actually wanted him to move in - after having grown up at Hogwarts then living with her parents until she could buy a place of her own, she had thoroughly enjoyed having her own space for once. Matthew however, had said that that was what the next step in their relationship needed to be. He'd said that if they were truly to be together, then they needed to be in each other's lives more permanently.

She shook her head slowly - she'd known he was having financial difficulties at the time, and although he'd never admitted it, she was sure he'd been evicted from his flat for not paying the rent. He tended to spend money that he didn't have and always had excuses as to why they were essential purchases. And at the time she really hadn't minded too much. She'd loved him and although she had been enjoying her own space, she knew he needed somewhere to live.

Looking back now, she realised she'd maybe been a bit naive. He hadn't helped with any bills come to think of it, often asking her to cover him financially for this and that, promising to pay her back when he could, spending money on replacing furniture and things around the house, convincing her that he had to feel like he was at home rather than just squatting at someone else's house. And now he was gone. Apparently he'd fallen in love with someone he met at the pub and he was going to go away with her as she was being sent to Egypt for long term business.

As Hermione sat and stared into the fireplace she could feel her eyes starting to burn. She didn't want to cry. He'd just shattered her heart like it was nothing but a spare cup. Why should he get her tears? But as she felt the tears start to roll down her cheeks she thought back to his departing words hastily scribbled onto a bit of parchment ripped from the shopping list.

'When you pack up my things, make sure they are wrapped up well. Don't want them getting damaged in storage. You broke my Trophy glass last month and when you repaired it, it looked wrong, so you'll need to see if it can be replaced. Oh and make sure none of your books get into my boxes.'

Anger started to boil inside her. How dare he assume that she would be responsible for clearing out his stuff! He could very well come back and do it himself if it was all so important to him! The pain behind her eyes began to dissipate and the tears dried up as she flew out of the chair, anger flowing through her blood. She needed to get out of here. She would not sit in this house a moment longer and nurse her own broken heart. She grabbed her bag, which currently had a couple of books in that she was reading. She found her keys and her diary. It was a beautiful evening with a gorgeous sunset. She'd find somewhere new to go. Somewhere peaceful with no Matthew memories. She'd write in her diary and leave this chapter of her life behind her a bunch of words on a page. It was Harry's birthday this week as well, so perhaps she'd pop over to his and give him his present.

Yes, she though. That'd be a good idea and that'll keep me out of the house for a good few hours.

As she left the house, locking up and walking purposefully away, she wondered whether to apparate somewhere or just walk.

She decided to walk. Walking was good. Walking had purpose and gave her space to breath. Using a charm she'd used regularly, she created an invisible bubble of space around herself that filled with music that only she could hear. As she walked, she'd feel her anger rise and her hands would ball into fists, her feet pounding along the pavement whilst she muttered to herself. She'd concentrate on her music to calm her and reduce her blood pressure. Similarly, she would become sad and teary, unbelieving of how she had gotten herself into this situation, shouting out her frustrations and heartache to the world. The music would stop those thoughts before they swallowed her whole, the songwords distracting her. For hours her mood swung between anger, hate, depression, self-pity, frustration, her mind going round in circles for hours. From time to time she would collapse onto a park bench, her head dropping into her hands, only for her mind to tell her to get a grip and quit feeling sorry for herself. Other times she would kick out as she passed a lamp post or a road sign, other times she would mutter loudly, pounding the heel of her palm to her forehead, trying to push the emotions as far away as possible.

It was sometime later that she realised she was still walking. She'd stopped to take pictures over the city as the sun had been setting - her way of finding beauty in a painful day, but now it was dark and she didn't have any idea where she was. Her mind had calmed significantly, and she began to realise that it was a bit colder now- the chill starting to seep through her thin jacket. Carefully fingering her wand by her side, she whispered the 'four point' spell to get her bearings, but as she did this she felt a heavy hand round her mouth as she was roughly shoved against a tree, her wand falling from her grasp and lying unnoticed several paces behind the men who had appeared. 'What? No my-' but her words were halted as she felt her camera and her handbag being torn away from her at the same time as a fist came flying at her face. She tried to fight back, clutching in mid-air trying to reach for her bag, but the more she fought, the harder they kicked, the more she shouted, the more their fists made contact with her face.

Minutes later she was lying on the ground clutching her stomach, her face bloody, her head splitting with pain and all her belongings gone. Her camera, Harry's present, her books, wallet, keys and her precious diary!

Hermione looked around desperately for her wand and saw it lying precariously over the edge of the pavement. She struggled to stand up, but once she was up she found that she was able to balance ok and was able to reach down and grab her wand. Quickly she did the 4 point spell again and began stumbling East. There was no way she could apparate home at this moment, if she did, she fully believed her head would split open. So she walked. Stumbling along, using her wand as regularly as possible to keep her orientated. When she felt strong enough to apparate home she did. However, it was not her own home that came into her mind just as that pulling sensation began behind her nose. No more than a moment later, she appeared in the dark silence of Ron's bedroom with a deafening crack and sank to the floor, her mind going blank as she passed out.

Ron was on his new broomstick, flying high above the streets laughing and calling out to the person in front of him. Hermione pulled away, just out of reach, her soft laughter drifting back to him as he tried to catch her. Her hair billowed in the wind, the sun shining so brightly that he could not see her clearly. He looked down at his socks, suddenly realising he'd forgotten to put his shoes on and he was wearing his pyjama trousers. Just below his feet he could see a small black dot, getting closer and closer to him, shooting up from the ground at an incredible rate. It turned out to be a chess piece that had black hair and sounded like Neville. He couldn't hear what the chess piece was trying to say to him, but as he leaned in more, he noticed the widening gap between Hermione and himself. But he was desperate to hear what the Bishop had to say and so leaned in ever so slightly more. At the same time as he heard one word uttered by the Bishop 'Ron', he heard a loud crack and as he looked up, he saw a figure high above him, falling through the air.

'Hermione!' Ron shouted as he suddenly sat up in his bed, his eyes wide, the memory of the falling girl playing before his eyes. For years Ron had been plagued by dreams of his friends being hurt in one way or another. He'd experienced so much since he had met Harry Potter that he had never been surprised by the regular appearance of fear in his dreams, of friends being in danger from black hooded garden gnomes, throttling plants, cursed knitting needles, falling from the sky and so on. However, recently he'd been free of these dreams and he certainly never woke up feeling like he'd really heard the crack of a broomstick as it plummeted it's rider to earth.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind and steady his heart. He lay back down gently, his arm resting over his eyes as he gave a huge yawn.

Trying to will himself back to sleep, he forced his brain to think of something else, of the quidditch match he watched earlier - no, that made him picture Hermione falling fast onto the pitch. The dinner he was going to for Harry's birthday next week - no, he just saw Hermione face down on the table, limbs splayed carelessly. He pictured standing in his living room, looking out over the street, watching the sunset - no, all he could see was Hermione's falling body repeatedly dropping in and out of view.

Irritated by this vivid image, Ron groaned loudly and hit out at the clock on his side table. 1am? Ron thought. He'd only been asleep an hour? Using his deluminator, he released a single glowing ball into the small room, eyes closed tight against the harsh light. As he slowly opened them, his gazed fixed immediately on a crumpled heap of... Something that was just inside the bedroom door. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he took a sharp breath inward and heard himself repeat that which he'd said just minutes ago. 'Hermione!'

He jumped out, instantly moving from the warmth of the bed to her side, grasping at her cold arm and shaking her, yelling for her to talk to him. When there was no response, he easily lifted her limp body and carefully placed her down on the bed, lying her out so that she was comfortable. He gently pushed her hair out of her face and took another shape breath as he realised her hair was sticking to her temples, matted with drying blood, a patch of colour appearing just below her left eye as if she'd just been hit hard by something that would result in a bruise. 'Hermione' Ron groaned. 'What the devil has happened? Why won't you say something? How did you get here? Where's Matthew? Hermione!' Ron's voice grew more and more desperate as he shook the body lying dead still in front of him.

'R- R- Ron?' Hermione stuttered, her eyes fluttering open, her head falling to one side as she sought out the voice coming from through the darkness. Slowly he came into view, her vision clearing, and she saw him leaning over her protectively, his torso bare, the chest heaving, his breath coming thick and fast.

'Hermione!' Ron repeated. 'Merlin's beard you scared me then. What has happened to you? Why are you here?'

Hermione closed her eyes, just as confused as Ron as to why she was here, with her best friend towering over her. She tried to sit up and instantly groaned in pain, clutching her side as the physical pain came crashing over her once again and the memories from the past few hours caused her to close her eyes tightly, her head shaking violently. 'No no no' she uttered, tears welling up inside, her breathing becoming more and more erratic. It hadn't happened she thought desperately. Her life had NOT just been turned upside down within in a matter of hours. The pain was NOT hers. It couldn't be! How could it? There's no way she would have allowed her life to be so utterly ruined without any warning. And suddenly she heard herself sobbing, her body tensing against the pain, her head shaking, trying to convince herself that it was not her.

Ron's eyes widened as she began to shake, loud sobs erupting from her frail looking body her fists clenched so tight that they turned whiter than snow. All Ron could do was grasp her hand, smooth her hair and whisper awkwardly, desperately trying to sooth her, questions whizzing round his head a million miles a second but not daring to voice them again.

'Hermione you're safe now. I'm here. I've got you Hermione. Shhh. Shh. Nothing's going to happen to you now, you're safe.' Ron had no idea what he was saying or if she could even hear him. He was scared and appalled and confused and worried all at the same time. His mother had always said that a cup of tea is the answer to most problems and he wondered if he should go and put the kettle on and give her some space to cry herself out. He began to pull away but her grip tightened on his hand, stopping him from moving. ''Mione I'm right here. I'm just going to get you a drink and something to wash your face with. I'm not going to leave you - you're alright I promise. I'll be back before you can say wizard's chess.'

Her grip loosened slightly which Ron took as a gesture of approval. He set about getting something together to wash the blood off her face whilst the kettle hovered over the fire, the water slowly boiling.

Whilst he was out of the room, Hermione looked around, a feeling of safety filling her. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, ashamed of letting her emotions overcome her like that in front of Ron. Oh Ron she thought. If only you knew. She'd missed him so much. Missed talking to him, laughing with him - even arguing with him. Ron always made her feel grounded and safe, no matter how much they argued. It was strange to think she was in Ron's bedroom, on his bed - his personal items surrounding her. It'd been so long since those days at the Burrow when she'd gone in and out of his bedroom, doing homework, catching up, planning...

He returned with cups of tea for both himself and Hermione and noticed that she'd shifted enough that she was sitting up, ready for a drink. Whilst she drank, he carefully cleaned the blood off her face, noticing that her lip and her right eyebrow were split and her right eye was bruising slowly, but otherwise her facial injuries were not as bad as they'd first appeared.

'Will you tell me what's happened Hermione? Where's Matthew?'

'I don't want to talk about it just yet Ron. I just want to be asleep. I'd have gone home but my keys were stolen, and Matthew is no-' Hermione paused, a look of pain in her eyes that Ron only glimpsed before she continued in a much more positive tone. 'Matthew isn't at home right now, he went away earlier and isn't due back for a few days.' She stated matter of factly.

Ron raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He was just grateful that she'd come to him. They hadn't been talking much for some time. Ron had not liked Matthew from the start - he'd been quite off handed to Hermione's friends and he'd gotten the impression more than once that Hermione had given up time with her own friends because Matthew valued his group of peers more highly. But then again, who could blame them. There had been so much bad press about the trio and other ministry folk during the war and even afterwards the papers had not been much better, making out that they had had more of a part in Voldemort's demise than they really had yet still using Harry and his friends as targets for any negative comments. And Matthew worked for the newspaper, so he and Ron were never going to see eye to eye.

He'd once believed that he and Hermione would finally get together, but his timing always sucked and by the time he was ready to be completely open with her, she had started dating Matthew. He never believed they would last long so he'd bided his time. Yet they'd stayed together and Ron's opportunity to tell Hermione how he felt had passed. Ron stopped going over to her's when Matthew moved in. He just couldn't put himself in that position. It was too difficult watching her play house with someone else, and Hermione hadn't been to Ron's more than a handful of times ever. Thus, the reason for their distancing relationship. So for Hermione to come here now, was quite surprising to him, but he wasn't going to say that to her.

'Get some sleep 'Mione. I'll wake you when I'm ready for breakfast!' Ron joked. He got up from the bed, moving the bowl of water and the mugs out of the way whilst Hermione settled into the bed again. Almost as soon as she'd gotten comfortable she appeared to fall asleep, breathing softly, her bushy hair covering the pillow. Ron watched her for a short while, just grateful to be needed by her again. He studied her, the bruising around her eye much more defined than when she first appeared, her eyebrows furrowing as she slept as if she was concentrating on a difficult task, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. It was at this point that he noticed the state of her clothes, muddied and bloody and he wondered if he should change her. He was sure that in the magical meledies book he had, there was a chapter on simple ways to tend a wounded patient. He gently pulled it off the bookshelf and found the section he had been thinking of.

Vestimentis Mutatoriis Amoveo:

Ves-tee-MEN-tis moo-tah-TOR-ris a-MOO-veo;
Take your wand, hover it about the item of clothing and flick away.
Use this spell in order to remove the patients clothes if needed. Do this for every item of clothing you need to remove. It should only be used to remove a section of clothing that is covering an area that needs immediate medical attention. The Amoveo charm can be used to remove clothes only with the consent of the recipient (they must be thinking/saying the same spell at the same time). Otherwise this spell will only cause the recipient to change from one outfit to another. This can be done whilst the other person is aware as well as when they are in an unconscious state. Recommended spell if someone has been injured with open wounds. Changing the clothes is the first step towards a more hygienic environment in which to care for your patient.

The book carried on with more hints and tips on how best to care for an injured or sick person in your own home, but he'd found the bit he'd wanted. His mother had talked him through this many years ago, before he and Ginny had gone to Hogwarts - Gin had hit a tree with her broomstick during a particularly aggressive 1 on 1 quidditch game on a wet winter's afternoon and then had collapsed on top of a gnome that had sunk it's teeth into her shoulder blade in anger at being squashed by a small human. His mom had shown him a simple way to look after her before finding out if a medic was needed.

Ron quickly found one of his mother's knitted Weasley jumpers and a pair of trousers he sometimes wore to bed, and laid them beside the sleeping figure. Saying the spell, the neatly placed pile of clean clothes was replaced by a heap which were her own clothes.

10 minutes later, he'd enchanted the clothes to wash themselves and was just finishing a letter to his dad.

Dad,

Something's happened. Hermione's just shown up and it looks like she's been hurt - mugged it appears although there's something she's not telling me. I won't be at work tomorrow so can you make sure to let them know in the office? And I'm sure Hermione's in for a meeting with the minister tomorrow or sometime in the next few days but I should think it'd be good to postpone that. I'll send Pig to her office as well.

Can you get Mum to bring over some chicken soup and Hermione's spare keys tomorrow dinner time?

Thanks dad. Oh and don't let mum treat Pig, he's getting to expect more treats than he should be eating!

Ron.

It was now 2.30am and Ron was shattered. He thought about summoning the trundle bed but he'd already sat down on the sofa and his body would no longer respond - refusing to do anything else without sleep. Before he knew it, he was stretched out on the sofa, snoring quietly dreaming of Quidditch and Hermione and cheese and...

'Ron!' Hermione woke with a start. The room was pitch black, her eyes unable to make out anything in her surroundings. Instantly memories from the previous night flooded her mind. Matthew's voice floated in and out. 'You're holding me back, I have so many ambitions and all you do is make me feel old and like I shouldn't try new things.' 'The war wouldn't have gotten to such a crux had you and your friend Potter just helped the ministry. You and Weasley and Potter probably made things worse by not cooperating.' 'I know you'd hired a lady to come and help out around the house due to our busy work schedules, but she talked so much that I fired her. I got us a house elf instead. They are much more obedient and all the money we'll save will go towards a new broom, which of course you'll be able to use as well.'

The sudden movement of jumping out of bed caused Hermione to pause for a moment, her eyes squeezed shut as a wave of nausea passed due to the pain in her ribs. As the pain settled, she opened her eyes and moved much more carefully. Throwing her arms out in front of her, she tiptoed towards the door, unsure if her path was clear. This room was too dark for her. She felt like she was in a box with no escape, just her own imagination to comfort her. She needed to breath. She needed to know that someone else was near. She needed to see that no one was creeping up on her. It surprised Hermione just how much she had been affected by a mugging. She'd always thought of herself as a strong woman. She had after all, helped to bring about the downfall of Voldemort after years of terrifying experiences since the age of 11. She supposed her state of mind had been a bit clouded when it had happened which meant that she was not really at the top of her game. Sadness filled her as she remembered what Professor Moody had repeated again and again. 'Constant vigilance.' She knew he'd say that to her now if he was still here and could see what had happened to her.

Leaving the room, she entered the living room, the moonlight streaming in through the open curtains, the sounds of the trees swaying in the breeze coming through the slightly opened window. Looking round Hermione wondered where Ron had gone. Looking out the window, allowing herself to relax, to feel like she'd escaped the feelings of claustrophobia, she took in the view. Ron lived in a small flat, the building shared with about 15 other wizards, at the top of a hill overlooking wide open fields. She knew he loved this space because he was close to the Muggle world which he was slowly getting to know better, but there was also space to play quidditch with other residents, the location charmed to look like a dilapidated farm building to non-magical folk, with a private property sign half way up the hill. In fact, the building was originally a muggle built farm house that was bought by a wizarding family along with the rest of the farm. Over the years, the building had become magically enlarged, more sections added until recently when it was converted into separate flats, all fully magically equipped with fireplaces and such. Ron had bought his flat, one of the first to move into the building, and had even taken to helping out on the farm in his spare time. Of course, this farm was run magically so things got done fine if he didn't help, however he enjoyed the freedom from office life by helping with manual labour, rarely using his magic to perform a task, instead enjoying be outside and doing something manual.

Hermione turned as she heard a snore from behind her. Ron was sprawled out on the sofa, no blanket to cover him, his bare chest visibly rising and falling. Hermione quietly walked over to him and considered waking him, but instead she gathered some cushions, summoning the pillows from the bed and sat down, her back against the sofa. She wasn't sure how long she sat there for, just watching Ron sleeping and wondering what could have happened had her and Matthew never gotten together. There were times when she'd believed Ron might return the feelings she had for him, but he'd never said anything. He'd always disliked Matthew, telling her things he'd said that she hadn't believed. Until recently, she thought wistfully. She fell asleep to the sounds of Ron's breathing, feeling more at home and at ease than she'd felt in months.

Ron woke the following morning as the sun burned brightly through the window, warming his face. He sat up and stretched, yawning widely wondering what the time was. He was grateful to think that he had a day off today, he'd love to sit out in the garden and read his quidditch magazine, but then again, his day off was not really for that, rather because of whatever craziness Hermione had been through the previous day. He was about to swing his legs off the sofa when he noticed the bushy mass of hair on the floor next to the sofa. He hadn't noticed her at first, and he wondered why she was there and not in bed

'Hermione?' He asked quietly to see if she was awake.

'Hm' came a quiet muttered response from somewhere below the bush of hair. 'I'm not awake. It's far too cosy and warm for me to want to move or be awake yet.' She continued, the sounds of a yawn escaping her as she finished her sentence.

Ron laughed at her response. Man he'd missed her. 'Hermione, pray tell, why are you sleeping on the floor of my living room when you were sleeping in a perfectly comfortable bed not too long ago?'

In reply Hermione burrowed deeper into cushions she had used to make her 'bed'. She wasn't going to tell him that she needed him near just to feel safe, that she felt that she might lose control if she didn't know he was by her side.

'I couldn't sleep.' She stated matter of factly. After a moment, she added in a much quieter tone 'it was too dark. All I could hear were Matthew's last remarks and all I could see was his face-' Ron's eyes softened. Now he was sure something had happened with Matthew. She'd not specifically said they'd argued but she'd not mention him if something hadn't happened.

Hermione realised what she'd said and stopped short, closing her eyes waiting for the questions from Ron. She hadn't meant to say it. In fact, she'd realised what she was saying just before she finished her train of thought. But then she wondered why she worried so much. She'd shown up here after all - this being the first place she wanted to be after Matthew's dramatic exit and after being taken by surprise by a bunch of muggles who wouldn't normally have gotten the better of her. Today, she decided, she was going to be brutally honest. 'I woke up and you weren't there. It was so dark and so quiet, and I couldn't stop my mind and you weren't there.'

Ron was thankful that Hermione couldn't see his face. He was pretty sure the tips of his ears had begun to turn red. He'd had no idea that that was how she was feeling, and without meaning to, a small smile played across his lips. She needed him. It'd been so long since she'd needed him.

'Mione-' Ron started, but Hermione sat up and interrupted him. 'It's fine Ron. I know I was being silly but I'm ok now. In fact, why are we not already up and eating breakfast?' She asked jokingly, still not ready to face the truth about the turn in her life. She just wanted everything to feel normal for a little bit longer.

'What time is it anyway?'

'11.25am' Ron replied glancing at his watch whilst yawning again.

'11am? But Ron! You should be at work! Oh no! I should be at work!' Hermione bounded out of her makeshift bed, her eyes watering slightly as she whacked the coffee table in her haste. 'I have a meeting today with the minister and Everitt wanted the work updates owled to him before lunch and-... What? Why are you looking at me like that?'

Ron was watching her with a bemused expression on his face. This was his Mione. She was back with him at last. 'I missed you Hermione Granger.' Hermione stared. 'Wha- How is- Are you- huh?' Hermione spluttered so taken aback by his random remark that had nothing to do with what she had just been saying.

'It's ok, I've taken care of it all. I've owled to say neither of us would be at our jobs today, dad is going to talk to the minister about postponing your meeting and as for Everitt, well, can he wait?'

'Oh' Hermione didn't know what else to say. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised about his organisation as he was now in fact a grown man who had been living a responsible working man's job for the past three years - but she just wasn't use to this side of Ron. Shaking her head slightly she tried to think of more reasons they shouldn't still be 'in bed' at 11am but all that came out was 'oh' again.

This was enough for Ron. He knew she was surprised. Of course, he'd given her plenty of reason to see him as irresponsible and lazy during school and in the four years since the battle, they'd seen each other less and less. He openly laughed at her goldfish reactions. 'Now that you are awake, don't expect me to organise anything else! That's you're specialty! I'm just happy for an excuse for a day off! Plus, it's the weekend tomorrow so no more work for 3 days! Thanks Hermione-' Ron suddenly realised what he'd said, thanking Hermione for her pain in order for him to skive off of work. Oh good going Ron, he thought to himself. Now she'll never feel like she can talk to you about what happened.

Hermione however obviously hadn't heard it that way. She was now laughing herself, her face relaxed into a bright smile and her problems momentarily forgotten. She dropped on to the sofa next to Ron, putting her head on his shoulder and linking her arm through his. 'I missed you too Ronald Weasley!'

It was a few hours since they'd had breakfast. Ron was currently in the shower after having had a long conversation with a colleague's head in the fireplace. He may not be at work, but the short notice had meant that there were a few complications to iron out. Hermione had said it was fine, she hadn't expected him to miss work at all. In fact, it'd been nice to watch him from the corner of the room being so business like and grown up. She'd had to shake herself out of her daze a couple of times as she stared at him, taking in this new Ron she'd so rarely met.

Ron had finished up the conversation with a good 15-minute chat about the Canon's game last night which made Hermione smile. In the meantime, she had busied herself anyway she could. Ron didn't have many books that she hadn't already read, so she got to tidying. First she did all the washing up and wiped down all the work surfaces. When she started to put things away, she found herself straightening out the cupboards. She had dropped some food on the floor so had found the brush, resulting in a well swept floor all over. Whilst she was sweeping, she felt she might as well carry on out into the living room and then into the bedroom. She could have done it all magically, but the thought never occurred to her. Obviously whilst sweeping up, she got side-tracked with straightening up the bookshelves and dusting, picking up magazines from the floor, finding dirty plates here and there... At some point she heard Ron calling from the other room saying something about a shower, but by that point she was so busy keeping busy that she didn't really notice his absence. She realised she was far too warm and was in the process of removing her jumper, only then noticing herself in Ron's clothes. And that she wasn't wearing anything under the jumper. She wondered when he'd changed her because she was sure she didn't remember getting herself changed. At this thought she felt herself blushing - How had he changed her clothes? If he'd changed her, that meant he'd... Seen her. It was whilst she stood there in the middle of the room, gaping slightly, broom in hand, eyes wide, that Ron watched her quietly.

'Hermione?' He asked, eyebrows lifted. 'Are you... Are you ok?' He had seen the bruising on her ribs just before she realised she shouldn't take the jumper off and once again he was pulled back to that place of worry and confusion.

'My clothes.' Hermione replied, eyes still unfocused as she fumbled with the bottom of the jumper absentmindedly.

'Your..? Oh your clothes. They are hanging up. They may even be dry by now. I washed them last-'

'I'm in your clothes.'

'Yes? Hermione are you ok? Yours needed washing so I cleaned them last night. Should I not have done that?'

'You took my clothes... Away?' At that, it hit Ron what she was so worried about!

'I didn't... Ya know... See anything Mione! I used the Vestimentis Mutatoriis charm to.. Oh Hermione, I'm so sorry! I should have asked but you were asleep. Mum always taught us how to do first aid and the vestimentis mutatoriis charm was always one of the things she told us was good to remember.' Ron was mortified. She had truly thought that he'd actually seen her at her most vulnerable without her consent. It hadn't even occurred to him that she might take it that way.

'I promise Hermione. In fact I've only just seen how bruised your ribs are when you-' again he felt his ears go red. He was just about to prove he'd been watching her when she'd half stripped accidentally.

'I.. Um.. You... Err... I ran you a bath.' he finished quickly trying to move the conversation onto something else.

'A bath?' Hermione looked at him confused.

'Yes Hermione. A bath. You need to relax in a bath with a large glass of wine and let me know how bad the rest of your wounds are. You need to stop tidying my house for me and look after yourself! Mum will be popping round soon with her chicken soup which is a must have when you're not feeling well and then you need to talk to me and tell what the heck has happened - about you and Matthew about how you ended up covered in blood and why you ended up collapsed on my bedroom for at 1 bloody O'clock in the morning!'

'Oh' Hermione said in reply, balancing the broom up against the wall behind her. 'Thank you Ron. I'd love a bath.'

'Yes well. I'll just go get you a glass of muggle wine then. The bath should be ready in a few minutes. Everything you'll need is on the shelf beside the bath.'

An hour later Hermione was clean and fresh, her own clothes back on although she was wearing Ron's socks - a well worn pair that she'd given him for his birthday last year that had owls on. Her hair was washed and pulled back, she had a mug of coffee and was back on the sofa waiting for Ron.

It was already 4pm and Hermione had asked if she should start on some dinner, but Ron had said Mrs Weasley had dropped off some chicken soup whilst she was in the bath. He had gone out quickly to buy some milk, butterbeer and a few extra groceries so they had something to eat on the weekend. She also asked him to ask in the apothecary for some salve for bruising.

A loud crack announced Ron's return, appearing in the lounge in his cloak, bags in hand.

'Dinner time!' He announced straight away, moving quickly into the kitchen to put down his things. Hermione followed, pointing her wand at the cauldron of chicken soup muttering a quiet spell under her breath. The soup soon began to bubble as it boiled and Hermione served the soup as Ron made a couple mugs of tea.

In typical Ron fashion, he wolfed down his soup and helped himself to another bowl before Hermione was even half way through hers. She shook her head, laughing at his apparent haste to eat and he returned that with a big grin between spoonfuls. Hermione liked this. Matthew had lived with her for 6 months and they had rarely had a proper meal together. They had made the effort to sit down occasionally, make a fancy meal with wine, candles and flowers but that was the only time they had really eaten together. He was out an hour before her so ate breakfast at work. He was home before her but never cooked and normally she was so exhausted when she got home that they'd have something light and easy to make, her eating at the dining room table whilst pouring over her books, him in the office writing or eating whilst talking to a head in the fire. Either way, dinner had normally been considered work time. Had Matthew sometimes cooked for when Hermione came home, they would have had time to sit together and chat before getting back into work mode. Except on Thursdays. Thursdays were days where they ate in the lounge, listening to the quidditch.

'Why are you looking at me like that Hermione?' Ron asked as he cleared away the dishes. Hermione had gone quiet, looking in his direction but eyes unfocused, a smile on her lips.

'We never did this. Matthew and I. We didn't spend the day around the house just enjoying each other's company. We didn't wake up late on a weekday or weekend or spend ages just talking about nothing. We didn't eat together. Thursdays are the only days we actually stay in the same room whilst eating- they were the only days...'

Ron took hold of Hermione's hand, pulling her gently out of her seat and guiding her towards the sofa. When they sat down, he simply said 'tell me.' And Hermione did. She told him how he was right about who Matthew was - how he thought they should have stuck with the ministry during that year, that although they had been together for three years she realised that they only ever did what he wanted to do, only went out for his work dos and had completely ignored anyone he didn't like.

'He was such a gentleman around me that I just ignored everything other people said about him. I focused so hard on the idea of a normal relationship and life that was easy and predictable that I tuned out the stupidity of the situation. I thought I was so in love with him, and yet now I think if it, I didn't even notice that he's barely been around for the past few weeks. He must have been with her...'

'Her?' Ron questioned quietly.

'Someone he met at the pub apparently. She is going on a long term business trip to Egypt and he's going with her! Going to be a foreign correspondent for the newspaper for a few months apparently.'

'That great lump of thestral dung! He is more of a bloody idiot than I ever gave him credit for-'

'No Ron. Don't. Please. ' Hermione said softly, putting her hand on top of his as a plea for him to calm down. 'He's gone, it broke my heart, I thought my life was shattered. I didn't know how to feel or think so I went out. For hours I walked around in a daze, trying to convince myself that nothing had happened, that I was just so stressed and had a bad dream. I thought about everything so much, trying to decide what I'd done wrong, what I would do next. I was sad, then angry with myself for being in that situation. I'd shake with anger at Matthew for using me, then at myself for letting him use me. I began to feel ashamed of myself for not trying harder to keep seeing you guys, of how I let you slip away from me at a time when we still needed each other so much. I began to realise how involved I'd gotten myself at work, leaving little time for myself let alone a relationship. It was at that point that I had realised I wasn't upset at Matthew for leaving me, just upset that I'd wasted so much time on him when I could have been with-' She paused closing her eyes and shaking her head very slightly. Biting her lip, she took another deep breath and carried on, more composed than before.

'That's when I got mugged. Some muggles took me by surprise just as I was about to use my wand. It was knocked from my hand instantly and by the time I realised what was happening everything had gone - books, camera, Harry's present, my diary...' Thinking of her diary she shivered at the thought of some stranger reading it. Hearing her inner most thoughts and fears. Her scathing remarks, her silent pleas, her secret truths and her exaggerated problems. Thankfully she had put a locking charm on it, so they'd think it was an empty notebook that had a habit of not staying open.

'Really they got nothing. My diary will appear like an old, unused scrapbook, my money like some stage props, my camera is charmed so they'll soon give up with that. I'll have to buy Harry a new present but that's fine.'

Despite himself, Ron laughed, only laughing harder when Hermione looked up at him questioningly.

'Those poor blokes! They go to all the trouble of mugging you and when they look through it all, they'd probably think you were bloody mental, carrying around so much junk!' Ron thought it was hilarious and laughed more as he pictured their faces.

'Bloody serves them right, the gits!' He mumbled as his laughter died slowly. Hermione had been watching him with a smile, agreeing with him. she'd love to have seen their faces when they realised there was nothing apparently valuable in there for them. They probably thought the money was from some special edition version of monopoly and she groaned as she realised she had been to the bank yesterday. Having taken money out for bills that she normally paid today and the trip to diagon alley she'd planned for tomorrow so as to buy some new books. Oh well, worse things could happen she supposed. She'd tell Mr Weasley and ask him to keep an eye out for any word about her belongings.

'The thing I'm most upset about is my diary.' she said calmly. 'I've had that since I went to Hogwarts. It's got everything in. I wrote about everything we ever did, about how it felt to attend Hogwarts and begin to learn magic, about all the ups and downs through school, about missing my parents and about friendships throughout school. I wrote stories and poems, ideas for spells and potions I'd like to try and make, my most prized photos are in there including that one Ginny took of the 2 of us in Grimmauld place after 5th year. Remember, when that awful candle decided to spit fiery darts at everyone and your hair caught fire?'

Hermione smiled as she looked past Ron's shoulder remembering how they had been cleaning the dining room and dodging flames whilst Fred and George tried to stun the candle. Just before they'd managed to melt it down to a pile of harmless hard wax, it had shot one last flame in Ron's direction. Nobody had noticed at first, not even Ron, but Hermione turned to find the smell and jumped on Ron, hitting at the flames in his hair to put them out before he incurred serious burn injuries. That was the moment Ginny took the picture.

'Ah yes, the moment you started slapping me on the head! I thought you were doing some sort of tribal dance at first, jumping up on the table like that, then throwing yourself at me like you-' He'd almost said he had thought she was about to kiss him, but then realised who he was talking to.

'Um, like you um thought I was a book on fire or something!' Ron finished lamely, absentmindedly playing with the patch of hair that had been on fire so many years ago.

'If you hadn't realised your own hair was on fire then you deserve a few knocks on the head!'

'You'd not lived with Forge long enough to become accustomed to the stench of burning, evidently!' He replied, poking her accusingly as he said it.

For a few minutes they were silent, Hermione thinking back to those days, Ron watching Hermione. He thought about what she'd said about her diary and wished he could do something. If he could just get his hands on those mutts he'd give them what for. Hermione might have been keeping her distance, unintentionally or otherwise, but Ron had always followed Hermione's career and kept up with what was happening in her life. She had written multiple editorials for the daily prophet as well as other foreign newspapers. He'd kept them all. He knew where she went running and would sometimes sit in the park with a sandwich and his work, waiting to just watch her running around the lake. He always willed her to notice him, but she never did. He'd never interrupted her as she'd always appear so stressed and in need of her alone time. Last year she'd written a book - a short book about the liberation of house elves - mostly just a book full of research and evidence as part of her E.A.R.S - Educational Advance Research Studies. He'd preordered it just so he could read it anytime he missed Hermione's voice. He'd even become friends with her parents, meeting them properly at a conference that Hermione had been intending to attend and had invited her parents to, only to be absent for all but the first half hour. They'd talked all evening, Hermione had asked him to keep them company if she was gone for too long as they were in a room full of strangers and strange talk. He knew there had been a foreign correspondence conference on the same evening and he now wondered if Matthew had monopolised her for the evening. After that evening the Grangers had come to the Burrow for dinner at least once a month- the 2 dads got on very well and the mothers would cook together, filling each other in on their different lives. Ron had taken Mr Granger to a Quidditch game whilst Mr Granger took Ron to a football match and then a Rugby game which they had both preferred. Mr Weasley had even been given a ticket to the Formula 1 in Silverstone by the Grangers as a Christmas present last year.

Even with all this, he'd never pried about her relationship, so angry with himself for letting her get away, and he was angry with himself for not being there for her more.

Standing up, he once again pulled her up out of the seat and enveloped her in a hug.

'I'm so sorry I didn't notice how bad things were. I can't believe how much of a bloody miserable friend I have been - I just got so annoyed that you'd believe him over me. That you picked him instead of-, it was Krum all over again and I was- I was...jealous. I was jealous that he got to share your accomplishments with you, that he got to be the first person to give you a hug and tell you how proud he was. That he got to go to parties with you or make fun of you for a book you'd not put down for 100 hours! And then you told us he'd moved in and I always wondered why you'd be happier with him than us. Whenever I finished something that I was pleased with I'd always think about owling you just so I could let you in on my accomplishment and I'd imagine you giving me that look that says, 'did you put your heart and soul into it-everything you've got? Yes? Well then I love it!' I thought you were happy Hermione. Merlin's beard! I thought you were happy and so I bloody left you to it.'

He held her for what felt like ages and as Hermione listened to his words she began to cry. She felt Ron stiffened slightly, but he quickly relaxed, holding her tighter and stoking her hair. She buried her head in his chest, amazed that he would hold her whilst she wept. She could tell his shirt was getting wet from her tears, but it felt good to cry. To know she wasn't alone and that she hadn't been deserted. She hadn't cried like this since Ron had left Harry and herself on that night before they went to Godricks Hollow.

Despite herself, she felt herself laughing slightly, the huge lump that had been growing inside her finally released and suddenly she had no idea why she'd been so upset. It was the realisation that she had felt 10 times worse when Ron had left her than she had done last night. She had realised in that moment, that she was still well and truly in love with Ron Weasley.

Ron pulled away, his hands still loosely holding her, and lifted an eyebrow in question. 'Ok, so now we are laughing? What are we laughing about this time?' And as Hermione looked at his puzzled face with a hint of concern, she laughed harder, pulling him in again burying her face in his shoulder, feeling his warmth and feeling happier than she had in such a long time.

'I missed you Ron Weasley.' she replied quietly after her giggles had subsided. She smiled into his shoulder and resolved to tell Ron exactly how she felt about him - just as soon as she had wiped Matthew from her life for good.

Don't worry, There are 2 more chapters – already written but not yet proof read!
Please do review – Good or bad - I'm chill!