Written For:

- QLFC Round #12.

Word Count: 1,486

Baby Steps

"I guess this is it, then," Hermione said, standing in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest.

Ron almost laughed. Was it really that simple? After everything they've been through—years of friendship, the war, marriage, children—could he really just walk away? It felt like he didn't have a choice. They've tried for so long, but he had to face the truth: he and Hermione were never made to last.

"Guess so," he said dryly, bending down and adjusting the contents of his suitcase. He didn't actually need to; unlike Hermione, he didn't have to have everything in a neat, tidy manner. Maybe he was just stalling, still clinging to the faint hope that he and Hermione could work things out.

Hermione didn't seem to have anything else to add to the conversation. For once, the know-it-all remained silent. She watched him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, clearly detached from the scene before her.

The silence was too much, and Ron sighed heavily to break it. "I'm sorry it didn't work out," he told her, closing his suitcase at last and latching it. "I do love you."

At that, Hermione's lips tugged into a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, Ronald," she sighed, the affection clear in her voice, "it was never a matter of not loving another. I'll always love you. We just—"

"We don't work," he interrupted, grabbing his suitcase from the bed and walking past her. "I know."

"Ron, wait!"

But he didn't stop. He knew that if he turned around his resolve would crumble. It was so hard for him to keep up appearances, to pretend the divorce that hung over their heads wasn't driving him mad. Stopping for even a moment longer and daring to hope would only end in tragedy.

Their marriage was over, and there was nothing he could do about it. Heart breaking, he walked away.

oOo

"You look like hell, Dad."

Ron blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was happening. Rose stood before him, blue eyes studying him intently. With a groan, he sat up, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

In place of a response, his daughter just huffed and drew her wand. With a few quick household spells that would make her grandmother proud, Rose began tidying the living room. "I did knock," she said at last. "For about ten minutes. Merlin, Dad, did you get drunk last night?"

Ron's face flooded with warmth that reached the tips of his ears. He looked away, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. A heated retort threatened to fall from his lips, but he swallowed it down. Rose's question felt intrusive, but he knew she had his best interest at heart. She was always so much like her mother.

"I am a grown man," he reminded her with a roll of his eyes as he climbs to his feet. His back ached from sleeping on the couch—there was a bed in the tiny house he was renting, but he wasn't comfortable sleeping alone yet. "If I want a drink or two, I'm allowed."

"Did you stop at just two?"

He rolled his eyes before smoothing his hands over his wrinkled shirt. "If all you're going to do is nag—"

"Don't get your wand in a knot. I wanted to talk to you about Mum."

Ron scowled. He knew it would be inevitable that Rose would want to talk about the separation. She'd always been the peacemaker, helping Ron and Hermione compromise on even the smallest issues. It would be nice if she could find a way to fix things for them now, but the situation was hopeless. As brilliant as his daughter was, she wasn't a miracle worker.

As though she could read his mind, Rose prodded her finger against his chest, brows raising. "Don't give me that face," she said. The flash of something half annoyance, half anger that flickered in her bright eyes reminded Ron a little too much of Hermione. "You and Mum love each other."

Ron couldn't bring himself to smile. He did love Hermione, and there was no question about that. Better still, he was lucky enough that she loved him back. It didn't matter, though. In the end, love couldn't save them.

His temper was too great, and she was too stubborn. Things that should have been resolved after a few minutes became screaming matches instead. Neither were innocent in the mess their marriage became.

"Love isn't always enough." He dropped back onto the couch, slumping forward and running his temples. "We tried."

"Try harder."

The sharpness in her tone caught him off guard. Ron looked up, jaw dropping slightly.

They had tried. Nothing worked. Could Rose really not understand that? If he could fix things, he would, but there was no hope.

But there was no escaping the clear accusation in his daughter's eyes. Ron looked away, trying to swallow down the guilt that snaked its way through his insides.

"Mum loves you. It's been a week, and she won't stop talking about how she wishes everything could work out. Go to her," Rose said.

Without another word, Rose stalked off, slamming the front door behind her. Ron stared at the empty space she had occupied only moments before. Sighing heavily, he shook his head. Rose was always the optimist. If only he could have even a fraction of her hope.

oOo

Hermione stood in the doorway, brows knitting together in confusion as she studied Ron. "It's three in the morning, Ronald," she grumbled, tucking her wild, messy curls behind her ears.

"I know." He offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry… Rose stopped by earlier, and I've been trying to find the courage to come here since she left."

"Couldn't you wait until the morning to be brave?" she asked, though her affectionate tone betrayed her scowl.

Ron took a deep breath. He'd spent hours thinking of what he would say. Percy would have been proud of the way Ron had stood in front of the mirror, practicing. Now, however, it felt like it had all been for nothing. His mouth went dry, and the words seemed to stick in his throat.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It was nice to see you, but if you aren't going to say anything, I need—"

"I love you, and I don't want to lose you." His heart beat so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if Hermione could hear the frantic, panicked sound. "We can make this work."

Hermione looked away, but not before Ron noticed the pain twisting her features. "Please don't."

"We aren't perfect. We both have things we need to work on, and I'm willing to put forth an effort. Let's go to that therapist your aunt and uncle recommended." He took a deep breath. "I just want you."

Silence hung between them, tense and painful. The fact that she didn't slam the door in his face gave him some semblance of hope. It wasn't much, but he would take whatever he could get.

"It's going to take time, but I'm willing," he told her. "Take that leap of faith with me, Hermione."

For a moment, she looked like she might argue, and Ron felt the annoyance burning within his veins. He shook it off, reminding himself that he was supposed to do things right. This was not the time to fall back into that familiar routine of bickering and arguing until one—or both—of them said something they would regret.

"Baby steps," she said at last, nodding. She offered him a small smile. "You've come a long way, Ronald."

"How so?"

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You don't have the emotional range of a teaspoon anymore," she chuckled. "I think you've expanded to a tablespoon."

He snorted, eyes rolling. "Funny."

"I'll ring Aunt Mildred in the morning to get the marriage counselor's number," she said.

Ron nodded. Maybe things weren't so bad. There wasn't a promise that they would be able to make things better, but there was enough hope to hold onto. As he and Hermione parted ways for the night, he couldn't resist a smile. One way or another, they were going to be okay.