Disclaimer: Not mine, except plot.

And the Rain Came Down and Washed Away Her Tears…

The rain hit against the window as Ron Weasley tipped back a shot of Firewhiskey. He stared into the fire. A pile of parchment sat his feet, work that was being forgotten.

It was year to the day that he had been sitting at his desk, working on a report for Harry on an apprehension that was made. Even seven years after Harry destroyed the Dark Lord and brought peace to the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds alike, there were Death Eaters still at large and new ones popping up.

He had looked up and saw Alice standing there, a satchel in one hand, her wand in the other, and a trunk at her feet.

"I'm leaving, Ron."

"What?" he said.

"I am leaving. I want a divorce."

"Why?" he asked.

"This,"-she indicated with her wand to them-"us, it isn't working. You are always so buried with Auror work and somehow I feel as if I just don't fit in your life. Harry and Ginny are perfectly wonderful and so is your family, but sometimes I feel they are comparing me to someone else. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah, funny," he had mumbled, feeling his ears starting to burn.

"I just can't take being second best to…to…I don't even know what. I feel as if there is a ghost in your past that you haven't told me about and now I'm not sure I can take it, if I even want to know. Whoever she was, I don't want to compete. I don't think I can."

When Ron didn't respond, Alice had nodded. "I see. Goodbye Ron."

She Disapparated then.

He had received a Ministry owl a few days later with a Divorce charm. He couldn't help but feel conflicted at newly gained title 'divorced'. He was sad; he had loved Alice, in a way, but he was relieved to be free again. He felt guilty always thinking of her while being married, as if he was being unfaithful without actually doing anything.

His mother had been not happy, to say the least. She had come over as soon as she had heard and asked him what his problem was. She wanted grandchildren. They had gotten into a row, Ron yelling why she was on his case and not Ginny or Charlie or Fred and Angelina. She already had several grandchildren by Bill, George, and Percy. Why was she harping on him? She had sighed and shook her head and left, one of the very few times he had seen his mother back down.

Harry and Ginny had been surprised, but exchanged a guilty look at each other, when Ron had told them what Alice had said. Ron had noticed, but thought nothing of it.

Ron rubbed his blurry eyes, the flames dancing through watery eyes. Why was it that every relationship he had was a disaster? That horrible stint with Lavender sixth year and then his relationship with Hermione.

Hermione…

He stood abruptly and extinguished the fire. That was a line of thought he didn't want to follow tonight.

He went over to his desk and picked up a piece of parchment that had been drying-a timetable of things for the weekend; a habit someone had left behind. He was going to the Burrow for his father's birthday party. His entire family would be there.

But not the most important person, eh? a sly voice whispered.

"Shut up," he said aloud, wincing, the Firewhiskey increasing the volume of things.

He set the parchment aside and replaced the lid on the ink. He blew the lamp out and stood, stretching. He padded across to the door and secured it. He darkened the hallway and climbed the stairs.

Entering his room, he stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers. He turned facing the bedside table and studied the picture.

He sat in the crook of the old tree behind the Burrow. Harry sat at the base, reclining. Hermione sat next to him on the branch.

Hermione…

He hadn't seen her in four years. Not since she had married that Muggle, Aaron Franklin. He thought from the get-go it would be a bad match. He was brash and forceful. He made comments about Hermione that Ron caught, but Harry told him to mind his own business, as if Harry didn't believe him; as if he thought Ron would cause problems.

Ron loved Hermione; therefore whatever made her happy.

She had visited during the first year. After that, she reduced to writing regularly. Then he had received the occasion owl. Now he didn't know what she was up to. Was she happy? Had she had any children? Was Franklin treating her right?

A sharp pain located in his chest came at the thought of Hermione being unhappy or mistreated or hurt. He would kill Franklin if he hurt her.

He sighed and turned away from the picture, from Hermione's smiling face, shining eyes, waving blissfully at him. The last thing he need on his mind was the past. He had no cause to think she was unhappy or being hurt. She was probably incredibly happy with three children, and pregnant with another of Franklin's.

Ron drifted off fitfully, an image of Hermione round with his baby tattooed in his mind.

It was about two in the morning when a persistent pounding on the front door awaked Ron. The erratic sound broke through his dream, in which he was married to Hermione and she was seducing him.

He sat bolt upright at the sound, wand in hand. He threw back the covers and ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

Stumbling down the stairs, he cursed the time. "For the love of Merlin, bugger all! Who in Hell would it be at this hour?" If it was Harry, for whatever reason he was pounding on his door, he would be sorry.

He approached the front door. Flipping the lock, he extended his wand. He threw open the door and a look of shock washed over his face.

"What the bloody hell!"