Widow, a harry potter fanfic

Greetings all! This is my VERY first fanfic. This is a Ron/Hermione one shot. Please let me state that this was so hard to write. I am 100% Romione but since there are SO MANY detractors of this pairing, I wanted to explore the territory of them breaking up and ending up with other people. I don't want to talk too much here but I want to thank all of you in advance for reading. Please be kind and constructive in reviews if you feel the need to leave one. I am so nervous...okay...here goes. Let's begin:

The area was peaceful, eerily quiet. The dirt was already placed back where his coffin was deposited. There was no headstone, yet. Bill said he ordered one and it would be delivered within a week. Molly simply wanted it placed. No formalities. I assume she was just done with it all. I settled myself on the grass beside the grave. It was the closest I had been to him in far too many years. What would I even say to him? Would he even hear me? Well I suppose I should say something. Anything. Who was to say I'd be back here again?

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to pour my heart out to the freshly dug grave in front of me.

"Ron…I…," I couldn't think of a thing to get out. Nothing would be enough. No apologies. The last thing Ron would ever want is an apology. "Ron. I can't even begin-"

"Begin to what?" I turned my head so fast; I thought I would break my neck. She still wore her black dress, her loose hair hung in modest curls down to her waist. Her scars were faded, a muted sort of pink. Her blue eyes were red, still wet with already shed tears. "You can't even begin to what?"

"Lavender. I…um…h-how are you?"

I remember like it was yesterday. It was over and done with. I'd had enough. Perhaps it was his grief over the loss of a brother. Perhaps it was nerves. All I knew was that he'd regressed drastically when we decided to live together. I was sick and tired of arguing with him. I was sick and tired of giving silent treatments (I knew ignoring drove him crazy). I was sick and tired of doing absolutely everything: cleaning, cooking, laundry, shopping, starting conversations, initiating resolutions to our many, many fights. I was sick of taking care of him. But most of all, I, Hermione Granger was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I'd waited for him to get home and without preamble; I informed him that I'd had enough. He had to go. There was absolutely no way I was leaving. I was the primary bread winner here. I paid the bills. I paid on the flat. I cleaned it, I cared for it and it was mine. I packed his things before he came home and set them up by the door. He was genuinely shocked. He asked me to think this through. He'd asked for my forgiveness. He even cried. But I would hear none of it. I told him I was simply finished. Yes, I loved him. In truth, I adored him. But love was not enough to keep us going. He was a child. He was too comfortable and I decided to end it before I did become cold toward him. Colder than I'd already grown. I decided that our relationship had to end before I grew to hate him. A small part of me already hated him. It took two and a half hours to convince him but he accepted my decision. I'd be lying if I said I was not surprised by his acceptance. He told me that he loved me. He apologized for disappointing me. My mind cried that this was a mistake. 'Stop him! He sees you're serious! Don't put him out!' He handed me the key to the flat, kissed my cheek, told me he'd be at the Burrow until he figured things out and then quietly left.

He'd been gone for 30 seconds when I broke. That night I cried harder than I ever had in my entire life. I cried for a dream deferred. I cried because the boy I'd loved since I was 13 years old was gone. He was the only man who'd seen me nude. He was the only many who'd touched me intimately. He was the only man I wanted to touch me. He knew everything about me. Every single detail. Every single secret. He'd found beauty marks on me that I didn't know existed! And now he was gone. As necessary as that decision was, it devastated me to my very core. That night shattered us both into a thousand pieces and we had to put ourselves back together again.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months became a year. I met up with Harry regularly. Our breakup did not have too great an effect on our mutual friendship with Harry. We'd been having regular Wednesday afternoon lunches and I finally had the courage to bring him up.

"How is he?"

"Who?"

The look I gave him could have cracked his glasses. "Oh…yeah. He's okay. Really good, actually. I'm sure you read it in the Profit."

I knew about his work as an Auror. He'd really made a name for himself in the department. A known Death Eater had escaped from Azkaban and Ron had been instrumental in his recapture. He'd also uncovered an attempt to retake the Ministry. The coup was being led by a high ranking Ministry Official. When I read it I was pleasantly surprised. He, Ron Weasley, had captured a known criminal and uncovered a national conspiracy. I laughed to myself reading the article. I could hear his voice in my head.

"Always the tone of surprise."

I knew what Ron was up to professionally. But that wasn't the information I was after. He also knew as much about me. He knew that I now headed the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. He knew I was spearheading a series of new laws that would reform the acquisition and treatment of House Elves. He knew I was constantly battling the Pure Blood Council on attitudes towards Muggles and Half Bloods. We knew of each other's successes. But how was he doing?

Harry told me that the first three months were rough. He'd done some heavy drinking. Disappeared for days. Snapped at absolutely everyone who tried to comfort him and generally behaved like a complete prat. Then suddenly he'd opted to keep busy. He decided rather randomly to fill his life with work. Over the course of the next three months, he'd worked diligently and had even spent some weekends working with George at his shop and collecting extra money. He'd rented his own flat, stopped feeling sorry for himself and picked up the pieces. He had his setbacks but now they were few and far between. Another year passed before Ron and I saw each other again. It happened to be at Harry and Ginny's engagement party.

I went alone. So did he.

"Well, well, well…Hermione Granger."

"Hello Ron."

He hugged me. It was warm. It wasn't forced.

"You look good. It's good to see you." He said soberly.

"Thank you, Ron. You look good too. I hear you've been doing amazing things. I'm very proud of you!"

"Cheers. It all sort of just happened. Life's funny that way." Damn, he didn't say it. No sardonic grin. No comment on my tone of surprise.

"You deserve it all though, Ron. I always knew the best of you was hidden up your sleeve."

"Well, thank you. Really. I hear you're doing brilliantly too. But that's no surprise. You've always been destined for all that."

Ugh! We continued the small talk for an hour. Eventually we loosened up and enjoyed the party and each other's company. We gave speeches for the happy couple, as we were the Best Man and Maid of Honor. He even danced with me! He saw me home after and I offered a night cap. Naturally, he accepted. We didn't do anymore drinking that night, of course. He knew what he was coming up to my flat for. I was fine with that and so was he. We needed it. I'd missed him and I needed to feel him again. Those few hours were heaven. To touch him, to taste him, to experience him in that way again. I truly needed him that night. When I woke up, after, it was barely dawn. I was alone. The side of the bed he'd settled on (his side) was cool to the touch. He was gone. He'd been gone for some time. For a moment, I felt hollow. I desperately wished he'd been there with me. But then I noticed a letter on the bedside table. I scrambled for it, clutching the sheet to my bare skin. I snickered when I read it. Five words, spoken in true Ron Weasley fashion. The note had also been initialed.

"Always the tone of surprise. RBW."

I knew he'd say it.

Things changed after that night. I sometimes saw him in passing. We sometimes stopped and chatted. We even had lunch together once or twice. Our break up was mentioned and as difficult as it was we finally addressed it. He told me that he knew what I needed to do. He was at peace with it and even though he missed me, he understood completely. We wrote back and forth being sure to properly orchestrate events held for Harry and Ginny's wedding. We exchanged Bachelor/Bachelorette party stories and settled into a comfortable friendship. We were never intimate again.

On the day of the wedding I was prepared for absolutely anything to happen. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't hoping to walk out of the Weasley tent at the end of the night on his arm. I knew what I wanted but I was prepared for anything. He wore black dress robes. I wore a scarlet green dress. We were the only wedding party. The first surprise was the only surprise of the night. It was something that shook me to my core. He did not come alone. He had brought a date.

He's not alone.

He has a date.

Those words replayed in my mind like a mantra. I was stunned. He looked sorry. Of all women, of all the women in England, he'd brought her. He'd come to the Potter wedding with Lavender Brown on his arm. I had seen her only once since the Battle for Hogwarts. She looked lovely. Her curly, blonde hair was done beautifully, she wore a loose fitting yellow gown, the scars Greyback left on her neck and hands were visible, she made no effort to hide them. Not anymore. She wasn't bubbly. She was quiet and nervous. The moon was full that night. She clung to him the entire night, except once when we joined, in our roles, for the first dance of the night. Sometimes she stood off to the side, gripping the back of a chair, her eyes tightly shut, and her knuckles turning white. When it happened, Ron was at her side, calming her. The family received her warmly. Even Ginny tried her best. Bill enveloped her in a tight hug at one point that night. Those two were bound by their survival. I wanted to be sick. Ron noticed my discomfort and after leaving Lavender with Bill and Fleur, he came to talk to me. He told me that he started seeing her two months previous. He explained to me that she took a part time job at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. She needed to get out of her house, which had now become a prison of sorts. She also needed discounts for Wolf's bane. He visited the Apothecary to get ingredients for his own potion making; he needed to know the craft, as he was an Auror. I understand he turned out to be rather good at it. They became friends, with him seeing her home on some nights. They had the occasional meal together. He asked her to accompany him to the wedding, after clearing it with Harry and Ginny, of course. He told me that they were still considered friends. I asked him if he wanted more with her. I asked him if he still loved me. He admitted his love for me. It was something that would probably take decades to fade. But he said he felt we had become bad for each other. I'd always try to mother him and he'd never feel worthy of me. He also admitted that he wanted to explore his growing relationship with her. Oh, how I wanted to hit him then. To hex him. Anything! But he was right. We had drained each other. We moved too fast to begin with. We were only twenty when we moved in together. We should have waited for that. I had so many regrets in that moment, but I understood his position. I threw caution into the wind one final time.

"Ron, we needed to be apart for a bit. We were killing each other. Things have gotten so much better between us. Surely you can see that! You can't tell me that you don't miss me. You can't tell me that you don't think of what could have been. I'm not going to beg you. But I am going to be honest. I've missed you. SO much. I love you. I can't just let this go."

He told me that he loved me too. He probably always would. But the problem was that he had fallen in love with her. It wasn't a greater love, I believe. It was more of a quiet love. There was no speculation, no 'what does she see in him?'

Ron wasn't a quitter by any standards, but the shallowness of the world around you can chip at your spirit. Sadly, in their eyes, Ron would be the "reacher" and I would be the "settler." No matter how much "reaching" I myself was truly doing. I know that compared to him, I'm considered infallible. People will fail to remember the little things I myself did or said to hurt him. The hateful looks I shot him when he commented on something in a feeble attempt to break the ice, or the way I praised Harry's kissing to make him feel better and belittled Ron's emotional capacity in the same instance. There was so much of that. Me stroking Harry's ego and admonishing Ron's insecure knee jerk reactions in the same breath. I didn't have to stroke Ron's ego. I could have stayed quiet. That simple. I was the one who launched a small flock of canaries at him in a jealous rage, after all. Sometimes, I wasn't a very good friend either. No one will ever know how little I cared about the bickering and fights we had as children. No one will ever know how little any of that mattered to me. We were children! Why would I dwell on the mean little things a teenage boy does, when they pale in comparison to the huge deeds he as a grown man has done for me. No one will EVER care that it when it truly mattered; Ron Weasley was always MY man.

I spent the remainder of the evening in a haze. It was no surprise that Viktor Krum was in attendance. He corresponded from time to time with Ginny concerning Quidditch, as they were both Professional Seekers. He had come over to speak to me. We shared a dance. Ron didn't flinch. When the night wound down Ron had to leave to get Lavender home. She had been complaining of a headache and she needed to rest. It appears the full moon had done its work on her. Bill was also in a state by the night's end. Ron wished me a good night, kissed my cheek, shook Viktor's hand and left. I tried not to notice his arm placed protectively around Lavender's waist. I tried not to notice when he tenderly wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead before they disapparated. I tried not to notice but I did.

In the following months, we continued a light friendship, but there was no denying how far apart we had truly grown. He talked to me in passing or simply shot me a warm smile and a wave. Some evenings after work on the way out, I'd see him stop at the florist in the atrium. He'd purchase a bouquet and disappear into one of the fireplaces. After months of letters, I agreed to begin seeing Viktor. He was a gentleman and I truly enjoyed my time with him. The very first time I was with him physically, I cried. He was confused but I knew what it was. It was the first time I'd been with someone else. He wasn't Ron and it felt so very wrong. Eventually I grew to enjoy it and I began to properly move on. Ron and I were finished with each other, in whole relationships with other people. Viktor bought me jewelry and treated me like a queen. The media pounced on our pairing, of course. We found ourselves avoiding photographers and various reporters. Shortly after that we became engaged. Viktor did make me happy and I learned to love my new life. Harry and Ginny had a son. They named him James Sirius Potter. They also asked Ron and me to be his God-parents. We accepted and we were both at the hospital to welcome James into the world. (Within a decade of their marriage, Harry and Ginny were happy and settled with three children. The next two born were named Albus Severus and a lovely red haired girl named Lily Luna.) I learned then, that Ron had formally proposed to Lavender.

While Viktor and I had a large glittering wedding, Ron's marriage to Lavender was a subdued and quiet event. There was a wedding announcement for them and I kept the clipping as a keepsake. I was invited to his wedding, but I knew I couldn't do it (I can only be so civil) and I politely declined and sent my love. He was also not present at mine, although he did send me a gift and a lovely letter. Lavender and I were pregnant within months of each other. While mine was rather easy, I was told that Lavender's was a nightmare. She was not ready to deal with a child growing in her and her hectic lunar cycles. I'm told she nearly miscarried.

My first child was a girl. Viktor wanted a boy and he could barely hide his disappointment. We named her Marina, after his mother. One year later we had the boy he wanted, naturally he was given Viktor's name. Both came out with curly, black hair and deep brown eyes. When they were born, they pulled frowns that would have made Karkaroff proud! He wanted more but I refused. Our marriage had begun to lose its luster and I did not want a new baby with him. Marina was the more athletic of the two with an immediate interest in Quidditch. It took Viktor some time to come around to the fact that it was his girl that wanted to play, but he eventually began mentoring her. Viktor Jr. was much more studious and pensive, he clung to me with every fiber of his being, a fact that caused his father great irritation. I was in Diagon Alley shopping for Marina's supplies for her first year at Hogwarts when I truly laid eyes on Ron and Lavender's family for the first time.

Four children. Ron fathered four children. Their first was also a girl. She was born with bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that curled like her mother's. They named her Katherine after Lavender's favorite aunt; they called her "Kitty" for short. She was neither athletic nor particularly studious. I was told she had a prodigious talent as a singer and planned to audition for Hogwarts' choir. Their second was a son that they named Charlie and he possessed his father's looks and his love for Quidditch. Their third and fourth (yes, twins) were something of a "happy accident." After two particularly difficult pregnancies Lavender had no plans to conceive again, but when she unexpectantly did, she was overjoyed. Rumor has it, she supposedly turned a strange shade of green when she learned she was carrying twins. The first of the twins was a boy that they named Davey who favored Ginny with dark red hair and brown eyes, and the second was girl named Primrose (Rosie for short) who appeared to be a miniature version of her mother. They appeared to be the perfect family but I learned later that they were far separated from the happiness I saw on the surface.

Ron had made every effort to make Lavender happy. He was truly the model husband, caring, and tender and devoted. He was a brilliant father. He did all he could to be present at every major milestone the children had in spite of his duties as an Auror. He gave Charlie flying lessons, learned to play piano properly for Kitty when she practiced her music, made mud pies with Davey and even dressed up for tea parties with Rosie. But Lavender had a suspicious mind. She interrogated him when he was home late. Railed against him if he sent me a letter or a holiday card. Ron and I had a lukewarm friendship, but to her, I was the "other woman." They argued and he did all he could to placate her insecurity but it was all in vain. By the time Charlie was accepted to Hogwarts, it was no secret that Ron stayed with Lavender for the children's sake. Confidentially, Ron had told Harry that when Davey and Rosie were old enough to understand, he would file for separation and divorce. He did love her, but he wouldn't fight with her any longer. If things changed, so would his mind, but Ron accepted that they wouldn't.

They'd been married eighteen years when Ron was called to a raid in Scotland. He was among thirty Aurors who were deployed to apprehend close to a dozen dark wizards and witches. It was supposed to be a smooth operation but Minister Shaklebolt had gravely underestimated the enemy. The raid was a mess. It cost the Ministry 17 Aurors. Ron was among the fallen. It was the killing curse that took him down. He was one of the last to fall. The news spread through Britain like wildfire. One of the Golden Trio was dead before the age of forty-five! The headlines were the pinnacle of sensationalism.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley Dead at Age 43"

"Grave Ministry Error Shatters Golden Trio"

"The Boy Who Lived Suicidal Over Loss of Best Friend"

"Hermione Krum in Drunken Stupor over Death of Former Lover"

"The Legendary Weasleys Devastated by the Loss of Their Youngest Son"

The headlines were sensational but sadly they were true. Harry was broken beyond repair, barely speaking, considering early retirement, oftentimes bursting into tears at the mere mention of Ron. He'd lost so many over the years, but losing Ron had broken his heart. He appeared to recover, but his sadness remained long after Ron's death. Ginny stayed in bed for weeks. When she was up, she spent most of her time wandering their house at Grimmauld Place muttering to herself. Poor James, who had to take care of his younger siblings, when Kreacher wasn't working, told me that he thought she was muttering to Ron, who only she could see. Molly was confined to bed rest, as she had lost Arthur only 3 months before. Bill and Charlie were depressed. Percy threw himself into his work and demanded an inquiry on the foul up that cost his youngest brother his life. George shut down his shop for nearly a month.

As for me, I wish the headline was a lie, but alas I confined myself to my study surrounded by decanters of Brandy, Russian Vodka and Fire Whiskey. Marina, who was home for the summer holiday, left food at the door for me, but I seldom ate. I was drunk and sad and lonely. I ignored Viktor and neglected our marriage. He told me that we needed to talk once Ron's funeral and burial was over and done with. I knew he was going to ask for a separation. Honestly, I didn't care.

The morning of Ron's funeral was a beautiful one. It was at the Burrow and Ron was to be laid to rest in the family plot near the orchard, beside Fred and Arthur. I sat in the second row beside Ginny. She was seated between Harry and me. She was clutching our hands so tight, they had turned blue. I would have complained if I felt it. I was behind Ron's other siblings and Molly. Lavender and her children were also in front of me. She was well composed, she had to be. To say the children were devastated would be a gross understatement. Lavender held tight to sixteen year old Kitty who was quaking with deep wracking sobs for her fallen father. Little Charlie who was fourteen tried to be strong but he became overwhelmed when it came time to share memories of his father. Davey and Rosie were curled to the sides of Fleur and Angelina, respectively, Davey staring at his shoes, Rosie hiccupping on her tears staring at the coffin that bore her father. They had just turned twelve. They had finished their first year at Hogwarts, sorted into Gryffindor with Charlie. Kitty had ended up in Ravenclaw.

Following the burial, which was a quiet and subdued event, I went into the Burrow for tea. Molly had been taken up to bed. Harry and Ginny went home with their children in tow, far too grief stricken for pleasantries. Lavender was also gone. She kept herself so composed, one would assume she was made of stone. I'm sure she went home to finally allow herself to grieve. I sat in the small Weasley kitchen surrounded by Ron's brothers. Their wives had gone home with their respective children and the men had gathered to have a drink in Ron's honor. They had convinced me to join them in the toast which I did, but I excused myself when they began to share memories of their little brother. I was not ready for an ounce of that. I decided before heading home to make one more stop to Ron's grave.

Ron's grave. His final resting place. I could not even begin to comprehend those words. The area was peaceful, eerily quiet. The dirt was already placed back where his coffin was deposited. There was no headstone, yet. Bill said he ordered one and it would be delivered within a week. Molly simply wanted it placed. No formalities. I assume she was just done with it all. I settled myself on the grass beside the grave. It was the closest I had been to him in far too many years. What would I even say to him? Would he even hear me? Well I suppose I should say something. Anything. Who was to say I'd be back here again?

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to pour my heart out to the freshly dug grave in front of me.

"Ron…I…," I couldn't think of a thing to get out. Nothing would be enough. No apologies. The last thing Ron would ever want is an apology. "Ron. I can't even begin-"

"Lavender. I…um…h-how are you?" It's been years since I was reduced to stuttering.

"May I be frank, Hermione?" She didn't wait for an answer. "How do you think I am? How are YOU? Can you vocalize what you're feeling? I couldn't begin to tell you how broken I am. I came here to see him without anyone rubbing my back or clucking in my ear. I came here to say…to say…"

She never finished her sentence. She came apart in that instance. Before my eyes she had fallen to her knees wailing, her grief spilling out uncontrollably. She hugged her arms close to her body in a useless attempt to hold herself together, almost as though if she let go so would break apart as though she were made of glass. I carefully approached her. "Lavender, please…its okay…it's going to be okay-"

"No!" She lurched away from me as though she had been burned. "Stop it. How many people have told me that it's going to be okay? You know what? Fuck anyone who would say that! It's not okay! I'm not going to be okay. My children are not going to be okay! YOU most certainly are not going to be okay!" She stalked over to the fresh grave. I watched in shock as she savagely ripped flowers from the earth and angrily threw them down. "YOU! You son of a bitch! How? How could you do this? You left us! You could have divorced me, you could have moved out. You could have gone back to her!" She angrily gestured in my direction. "She would have left her husband for you! As long as MY children still had you! They needed you. I'm all alone, goddamn you! You left us! You weren't supposed to leave us like this! You weren't supposed to! Damn you! Goddamn you!"

She collapsed in a sobbing, quivering heap on the ground. She was a broken woman. She buried her head in her arms, the world around her no longer existing. With great caution I approached her sobbing form. I sank to my knees and wrapped my arms around her. I realized then that I myself was crying. I whispered soothing words to her in an effort to calm her. To my great surprise she lifted her head and looked at me, her entire face red, and returned my embrace. If anyone told me this would be happening when I was seventeen, I would have laughed in their face. But here we were, holding on to each other, sobbing, mourning the man we both loved. After several moments when we had both tired ourselves out, we pulled apart and sat quietly for a moment. Wordlessly we rose to our feet, grabbed our wands and repaired the damaged flowers.

"Watch this." I quietly said to her. I pointed my wand at the ground and beautiful lavender blossoms slowly sprung around the grave.

Taking a deep breath and squeezed my hand. "Thank you," she whispered. "What's your favorite?"

"Roses," I answered. She pointed her own wand to the ground where red roses slowly bloomed and joined the lavender blossoms. "Thank you, Lavender."

After a moment of admiring our handiwork, Lavender turned to me. Smiling tiredly, she asked, "Would you like a drink?"

Accepting her offer I joined her at the house she had shared with Ron. It turned out that Angelina had taken her children for the night so that she could rest following the funeral. For the first time, we talked, truly talked. I unloaded everything I had locked within myself. My frustrations with Ron two decades ago, my motives for ending our relationship, my immediate regret, followed by my eventual acceptance of my decision. I told her about Viktor and the troubles we were having and how I was ready to end our marriage.

She told me about how she and Ron had reconnected. How he was only a friend to her for so long. She told me about how fondly he spoke of me, never harboring any resentment for our break up. She told me about how they began to see each other casually and how they came to have a serious relationship. She showed me baby pictures of their four children. We exchanged stories about Ron. His jokes, his temper, his easy going nature. We laughed about his hopeless devotion to the Chudley Cannons. We cried over the magnitude of the loss we both suffered. We drank wine, nibbled on biscuits and cheese, we made each other cry, we made each other laugh and we developed an understanding of each other. By the end of the night, I can't believe I'm saying this, but Lavender Brown Weasley and I had become friends. When I prepared to leave, she pulled me into a hug and said something I will never forget.

"You're a widow too, you know. You had claim to a big part of his heart. I know that when we cross over, he will more than likely be waiting for you. I know that now. I accepted that a long time ago. He gave me four children and believe me that gift is more than enough. I'm not afraid to say that to you. Don't worry about visiting his grave. No one will mind. I certainly won't."

Returning her hug, I managed to say the only thing I could get out. "Thank you."

Ushering me out the door, she told me I could write her and that she would like to write to me. I told her that I would be looking forward to her letter. After one more embrace, I apparated home and returned to my own family. Viktor greeted me at the door and I prepared myself for the talk he wanted to have with me. He didn't ask for a separation, but proposed we work on the state of our marriage. I accepted knowing that Viktor had not done anything to me to warrant a separation. In a way, I owed it to Ron to make my marriage work. I owed it to Ron to work on my happiness. I had to work on my children's' happiness. I owed it to him not leave this world with any regrets in my heart and I if were fortunate to find him waiting for me on the other side, I wanted him to look upon me with pride. I wanted him to know I had never given up on life. I wanted him to be proud of his widow.

AN: Thank you for reading. I hope it wasn't too terrible. All my love!