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A/N: Something a little different for me- leave me a review to let me know if you like it. Thanks!

If a Man Answers, Chapter 1

It's over. Those were the last words said. Not "goodbye", not "I'm sorry", but "It's over."

There had been no tearful embraces, no more angry words, just silent stares.

We both knew it was coming- it was just a matter of who had the courage to end it first. We were too busy with our separate lives to even concern ourselves with the inconvenience.

Inconvenience. That had been the last straw. Though things could have gone on quite happily- well, not happily, but as they usually did. When she acted as though my affection (which was far too rare an occurrence) was bothersome, I snapped.

I understood her reasons for believing that I wanted something in return. To be honest, I almost always did want something from her. But that last time had been something entirely different.

I had missed her, pure and simple. I wanted to feel her close to me. Being pushed away from her was more than I could stand and I pushed back: "It's over."

At the time, I expected her to push back. As the seconds had ticked by with heart-wrenching agony, I realized that it was really over. My whole world was collapsing in on me and it was at least partly of my own doing.

I always believed we would have some great row and come back to our senses. It never happened. We had disengaged from our shared existence long ago, but this was the final break to make it clean.

I had moved out and tried desperately to get out of my head.

I moved four times, once as far as America.

I dated a lot, but there was never any spark. Attraction, lust, those were easy to find. But she had spoiled me. She hadn't merely given me her physical body, her attraction, her lust. She had given me everything: her heart, her mind, her soul, her body, her love.

Somehow, after having all of her, only having someone's body seemed so empty and meaningless. I never managed to have sex with anyone else. I got close many times, but the plaguing emptiness had stopped me each time. I had gone home and taken a cold shower more times than I could even begin to count.

It wasn't just the sex, the physical connection, that I craved anymore. It was her. I knew I needed to see if there was any chance for us, any small possibility we could have each other again. I packed up my things and started flying home to her.

It's been two years. Two long years without a visit, fire call, owl, any contact at all. I hadn't seen her beautiful face in two full years. I hadn't seen my family or Harry in almost as long. Though they often owled asking me to come home, I rarely returned their letters. I had effectively dropped out of their lives and not given them any real means to force their way back in.

I chuckled sadly to myself. That I had not seen my family was particularly ironic, considering she still saw my family and Harry. I had no idea how often she saw them, but every once in a while, the letters would mention her.

'Hermione's well, Ron- just thought you would like to know.' That was Charlie, trying to be subtle.

'Hermione's got the flu this week, but Harry is taking good care of her.' That was Ginny, trying to assure me to not worry.

'We just had Hermione and Harry over for dinner. They both look good.' That was mum, always taking care of everyone.

'I'm planning a surprise party for Hermione's birthday. Your whole family will be there. Please come to celebrate with us. It would mean a lot to us if you would come.' That was Harry, proving he was a better friend than I ever could be.

Something occurred to me as I flew toward her flat: what if I was too late? I had been so focused on seeing her again and on the idea that she might take me back, I hadn't even entertained the possibility that maybe she couldn't.

She wouldn't send me away, not if she could help it. This I knew for certain and had just prayed she would still want me. Deep down, I just knew she would take me back.

But, could is different than would. Maybe there was already someone else. The letters had mentioned no one, but the senders were all smarter than to mention something like that. They had said she was happy and well.

With someone else?

The thought nearly ripped my heart in two.

I forced myself to slow down and take a deep breath.

Damn. Bugger. Fuck.

She had always been fiercely loyal as a friend and as a lover. But now it was different. Not that she had anything to be loyal to now. I had let her go. She wasn't mine anymore and I had given her two years to find someone to be happy with- someone else.

Merlin, she was beautiful, smart, funny, warm; she was everything I had ever wanted and so much more. She was what everyone really wanted at the end of the day. She wouldn't have stayed single for long, she couldn't have.

I knew I was in no state to see her, so I decided to set down and find a drink to calm my nerves.

I could have called Fred and George, but they were probably at their homes with their wives. I probably could have actually called any of my brothers, but they were all married and with families.

Instead, I found a Muggle bar where no one would know me; it's only distinguishing aspect with the cheesy, sorrowful music which was playing. Perfect. Sort of.

I continued musing about my family as I sat and ordered a whiskey. Not Old Ogden's, but not half bad.

Family, I thought bitterly to myself, was what I did not have, not in the way I wanted it. Why did my life always have to seem so hard and complicated? If I had enough sense to realize how good my life had been, things might have been different.

Soon I'll be the only one left in the family to not have someone to go home to, to not have a family of their own. Ginny and Harry must have been close to engagement by now, considering it's been about three years. Three years since Voldemort had been defeated. Three years since things had seemed so full of hope and life and new beginnings.

We had started dating around the same time Harry and Ginny had. I suspected we would have been married by now if we had stayed together; why wait when you know you've found "the one"? Of course, I hadn't known it back then; otherwise I never would have let things go so far. The thought of losing my one and only perfect match made me want to vomit. Or perhaps that was the fourth cup of whiskey I was nursing. I suspected the former much more than the latter, because the Muggle whiskey wasn't half as strong as Old Ogden's.

As I lost the ability to think about anything other than impending heartbreak, I noticed the words being sung on the strange box she had told me was like our wireless.

If a man answers I know what I'll do, I'll lie here awake so I don't dream about you.
If a man answers at this time of night, at least I'll know somebody's holding you tight.
If a man answers I won't call again, and I'll know where I stand while I twist in the wind.

Oh baby, I'm just missin' you; I'm crazy still in love with you.
I know my heart will break in two if a man answers.

Oh, fuck. I had not even thought about a bloke answering her door.

I just gotta tell you girl, maybe somehow make you see how much I want you to come back to me.
But if a man answers, you'll never know; he'll let you sleep while I let you go.

Oh baby, I'm just missin' you; I'm crazy still in love with you.
I know my heart will break in two if a man answers.

If a man answers, you'll never know; if a man answers, I'll let you go.

Shite. This bloke seemed to have the right idea. If a bloke answered her door right now, I would be lost. But would I be able to let her go? Would I be able to be happy for her, for them?

I shook my head knowing I would fight for her, fight for our love.

But, I thought, calling on her now wasn't half a bad idea. At least, if a bloke answered her door at this time of night, I would know what I was up against.

I finished my whiskey with a hard gulp and gathered my courage. I had to do this now, otherwise I would have lost my strength to do it tonight and I needed to know.

I somehow made it to our flat, well, her flat now, without killing myself. Bracing myself for the worst, I knocked on the door. It was two in the morning, so I knew I might have to knock a second time a little harder.

Actually, if I admitted it to myself, I was both scared and excited. This could have been the worst moment of my entire life- and that was saying a lot considering what I had lived through.

This also could have been the best moment of my life: Hermione coming to the door, hair all mussed and eyes half asleep. I loved her like that, so relaxed, so peaceful. She could be angry for a moment, but then she could allow herself to forgive me, I reasoned.

I closed my eyes in anticipation and knocked a second time. I heard footsteps pad toward the door and the locks being turned. I felt the door open and heard a startled gasp before I slid my eyes open.

Standing there in nothing but boxer shorts and glasses was my best friend. Harry's hair was mussed, his eyes were sleepy, yet somehow alive. He looked great, really had filled out, I thought fleetingly before I became angry.

I left and my best friend/my sister's boyfriend had taken my place in Hermione's bed? How dare he! Wanker!

All of a sudden, something seemed to fall into place: Harry planning a surprise party, my parents having them both over for dinner, Harry and Ginny not being engaged yet.

Staring at Harry, open-mouthed from shock and horror, I fought the urge to either run or to punch the ridiculous grin off of his face.

"Ron," he croaked at me before giving me a bone-crushing hug. It was getting hard to breathe before I finally was able to get out from his clutch.

I didn't want to admit how good it felt to be held so tightly when the smug prat had just been sleeping with my Hermione. Yes, my Hermione. She would be mine again someday, I swore to myself, and braced myself for the fight.

"Ron, can't believe you're finally here, really here, finally home. Your family must have told you where to find me, no doubt," the prat rattled on and on.

No, I thought angrily, you being here at all was a rather nasty surprise.

I allowed myself to be dragged inside, ready to tell Harry not to wake up my love when he suddenly called out to her.

"Hermione, my love? Come out here right now!"

Love? Your love? No, she's my love!

Jealousy surged within my body and curled to strike. How dare he wake her in the middle of the night, much less call her love while doing it.

Before thoughts came to mind about how to handle this new situation, Hermione, my love, came running from her room.

"Harry? Honey, what's wrong?"

Honey. Fuck. Bugger. Shite. Damn it all. Honey had become a dirty word the moment it purred from her luscious mouth. Her hair was mussed, just like I remembered. Her eyes were half asleep, still gorgeous pools of melted chocolate.

Suddenly her eyes opened wide with shock and she and Harry shared a glance. I did not understand the glance. Was this a glance of lovers? Was this a glance of lovers caught by someone they did not want to be caught by? Was this silent communication about how to handle the slightly tipsy ex-best friend and ex-lover whom they had betrayed? Hermione had always been really good at silently communicating her thoughts. Yes, I had decided, this was the look of people who were afraid to confront their betrayal; and yet, there I was.

Hermione walked over to Harry and clung to him, tears in her eyes. He clutched her tightly, too tightly for my comfort. There was something in the embrace which was far from comfort. There was familiarity, there was love. I hadn't expected the man answering her door to be Harry. I certainly hadn't expected her to love him. I didn't blame him for loving her, though I was angry about his inability to keep his hands off of someone who clearly belonged to me.

Harry walked Hermione over to the couch, still holding her tightly, and whispered words I could not hear. He kissed her forehead and kept his arm around her waist when he lowered her to the cushion. He motioned for me to sit on the opposite couch and I had felt too weak to resist. My breath had been stolen away from me, along with my hope and half of my heart. Actually, more than half, because it was Harry who answered the door. I knew my friendship with him had changed in the instant that he had opened the door. The two largest parts of my heart lied down in their chambers and decided to stop functioning.

"Ron," Harry began tentatively, rubbing Hermione's back in intimate circles. "I don't know what finally brought you home to us, but I have never been more relieved in my life, including when we took down Voldemort together. Not having you around for the last two years has been the worst time of my life. You're staying with us, no if's, and's or but's, we won't take no for an answer. Right, love?" Harry asked her softly.

"Yes, honey," Hermione responded with down-turned eyes, pain clearly evident. I longed to hold her, to kiss her pain away. I couldn't. She couldn't let me. I let her go and another man had answered her door- my cue to take a bow gracefully. I had been geared up to fight for her, but I had lost my will. I lost my will, my strength, my hope, my heart. I couldn't fight my best friend for our mutual best friend. It would have amounted to cruel and unusual punishment for all of us, at least at this time of night. After a good night's sleep, I could not guarantee that the fight would be over. I suspected I would toil after her until she was mine again, but at what eventual cost? I forced myself to not think such things while they stared at me expectantly.

I tried to find my voice, but only a squeak escaped. Instead, I nodded my agreement to Harry, unable to look her in the eyes just yet.

"I'll sleep in the spare room, if that's okay, since you two will obviously be in the master bedroom." I fairly spat out the last part, but I could hardly help myself. I wanted them to know that this fight was not over. I almost felt ashamed of coming into their home (which had been our home first!) and threatening to break them up.

Two soft gasps and more tears followed the bile I had spoken.

Harry and Hermione exchanged yet another silent glance before he abruptly stood.

"It's time for bed. I am going to demand to hear every detail of everything tomorrow. Oh, and I reserve the right to smack you for being gone for two years, you wanker. Now, however, is the time to sleep. I'll need my strength to kick your arse in the morning. That's the only warning you're going to get." Harry sounded serious enough, but one look at his twinkling eyes told me he was merely trying to go back to our familiar pattern of taking the mickey out of each other. Clearly my anger was hard for him to accept and he had chosen to ignore it for the time being.

I expected Hermione to get up and follow Harry. She merely stayed on the couch while Harry leaned down to kiss her softly on the tip of her nose. It was friendly, yet an intimate gesture. It tore my heart apart, but I restrained any thoughts about what he could possibly be whispering so privately in her ear. With another kiss on her cheek and a clap on my shoulder, Harry was gone.

The silence was more painful than I could have imagined.

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't," she said tearfully. I felt compelled to look into her eyes. She had stood before I raised my eyes and walked closer to me. I tried to breathe. She was almost close enough to touch.

I stood, looked into her soul, and waited for her to bridge the gap.

Slap.

Hermione's right hand connected with my left cheek almost before I could register her hand moving.

"That was for leaving two years ago without so much as one word."

I hung my head in shame; I knew I deserved her anger, but it was hard to hear. I finally raised my eyes to hers again.

Slap.

Hermione's left hand landed firmly on my right cheek just as our eyes met.

"That was for insinuating that you have any right to be angry or hurt if Harry and I are sleeping together."

I again hung my head. I deserved the anger, the pain, all the horrible feelings going through me, because I had wanted to hurt her. I had wanted to hurt my love how she had hurt me when Harry had answered the door. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to deny her anything she wanted right now.

Kiss.

Hermione's soft lips pushed insistently against my own albeit confused ones. I knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I took advantage of her kiss, blocking thoughts of this possibly being our last kiss ever. I felt her arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling my face ever closer to hers. Her tongue jutted out to dance with mine and we played furiously. It was an angry kiss, a passionate kiss, a kiss full of hurt and hate. She abruptly broke her lips away from mine and I died inside at the gap of inches between us.

"And that was for coming home, though you're late for dinner and you smell like a bar."

Kiss.

Hermione's lips brushed mine again, chastely this time. She eventually deepened the kiss, while still locking her arms around me. She slowly led me to our bedroom, refusing to break the kiss even to walk properly.

I barely had time to register the thought that I hadn't truly lost her, that there was still hope, when we hit the bed.

A/N: Okay kids, I promise there will be fantastic smut in the next chapter, but I had to get this pesky plot stuff out of the way first. The song playing at the bar was If A Man Answers by Toby Keith, which I heard while driving around in my sister's car.

Thanks for reading, feedback is always greatly appreciated. :o)

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