A/N: WARNING, EXTREMELY FLUFFY! But that's the way I wanted it so here it goes. Please review after you read this; I really want to know what you think of this!

It was a brisk fall day, the peak of beauty in autumn. The leaves were all sorts of brilliant colors, whisked away from their trees by the light wind. The clear, beautiful weather gave me hope that this day would go right.

I traipsed through some fallen leaves on the stone path and looked ahead at the old manor. It was so large it looked as if it could be an inn. Covered with ivy and wind-worn, it was clear that the manor was built long ago. It seemed so odd that she was living there. I had always imagined her living in a cozy little cottage on the outskirts of a town.

Hermione Granger had not been seen by anyone in the wizarding world for seven years. After the war, she had disappeared without a trace. All she told anyone was that she was going to her flat and then to the market, so no one saw that she left with all her belongings. We did find a note, so I guess she did leave some trace of her departure. All it said was "I can't be a part of this world anymore". Those words crushed me. How could she not want to be a part of this world…our world?

I went through a tough period when I stayed indoors, didn't talk or eat much, and kept to myself. Eventually I realized that my brooding wasn't getting me any answers, so I set off to get some from Hermione herself. The problem was, how would I find her? I started using every resource I could find, even muggle ones. I figured if she wasn't part of the wizarding world, she was part of theirs. It became my obsession to find her. People told me to come off of it and let her go, but I knew if I was ever going to be at peace, then I would have to find her.

I found out that she had changed her name to Hermione Evans. I'm guessing that she chose Evans because it was Harry's mother's maiden name. I was lucky that Hermione was not a common name, so I found her. She had become a successful business woman, her career built from scratch. She was the CEO of a publishing company. After some investigation, I found out that if a book had her company's name on it, it was an instant bestseller. It seemed fitting that it would be her profession. How many times had I seen her, curled up by the common room fire immersed in a book?

This was it, the moment that all my hard work had led up to. I found it difficult to breathe as I rang the doorbell. I heard the bell echo through the house and some footsteps on a hard floor. The door swung open and there stood an old man in a suit.

"May I help you?" he asked kindly.

"Yes, is this the residence of Hermione Gran- I mean Evans?" I asked.

"It is" he replied, "but I am afraid she does not usually take well to unannounced visitors. You might try going to her office tomorrow and seeing her then." And he began to close the door. I felt my opportunity slipping away and I held the door.

"Please, if you could just tell her that Ron Weasley is here to see her. She'll want to see me." I expected the man to say something nasty and slam the door, but instead he smiled.

"I'll see what I can-"

"Herman? Who's at the door?" interrupted a voice that made my heart stop with longing and recognition.

"A Mr. Ron Weasley" replied Herman. I heard some glass break and running footsteps. A woman in jeans and a plain white t-shirt came in to view and stopped short at the doorway. She looked at me for a second, and I saw the longing she had for it to really be me. She didn't waste any more time and threw herself into my arms. I caught her willingly and embraced her with all of the love that I possessed.

We loosened our embrace and beamed at each other for a moment. I saw it in her eyes; that still had a place in her heart for me.

"Ron," she said. She spoke my name softly and slowly, as though she had been yearning to say it for years.

She looked as beautiful as she always had, maybe even more beautiful. Her hair still had its volume, but had lost most of its adolescent frizz and hung close to her elbows. Her cheeks were more defined and womanly. Her eyes were just as I had remembered them. Deep chocolate pools of brown that I had gotten lost in whenever she lectured me about homework.

"Shall I make some tea, Miss Evans?" asked Herman. Hermione seemed to snap out of the daze she was in.

"Yes…yes that would be lovely, Herman, thank you," she replied, and Herman walked briskly into the house. "Come in" she said, so I followed her into the house.

The inside of the house looked as old as the outside. The floor was uneven and worn, the paint was peeling in some places, and I saw glimpses of walls made out of stone; but all in all, it was very clean and organized, just as I remember her flat had been. Still, it was so big for her.

"I bought this house because of the charm it has," she said, as if she were reading my skeptical thoughts. "The age of the house, the scrubbed wood floors, and the stone walls drew me to it for some reason."

"Maybe because it reminded you of Hogwarts," I suggested. She smiled.

"You know what, Ron, I think you're right," she said.

"That's a first," I countered, grinning. She laughed that laugh that had filled my dreams so many times. We entered a room, which I took to be her library, as the walls were lined with hundreds of books; some with shiny book covers and some with canvas covers that were falling apart at the seems. Near the corner were two large, red armchairs that looked extraordinarily like the ones in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione gestured towards them and we sat down.

"How did you find me, Ron?" she asked.

"It was no easy task," I replied, "I had to use every resource, even a comtuper!"

"A computer?" she asked incredulously. I nodded, wanting to kick myself for messing the word up. Her eyes widened. "Well I'll be, Ron Weasley used a computer just to find me!"

I could feel my ears reddening and I hastily said, "Well, I got a muggle librarian to help me and it was easy from there." I decided it was time to stop talking about me and start getting some answers from her. "Why did you leave, Hermione? The war was over; everything was going to be good again."

Hermione's lips tightened and a pained expression settled on her face. "Harry died, Ron, he died to kill Voldemort. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. Harry was supposed to live and everything was supposed to be happily ever after from there. But Harry died, and instead of everyone in the wizarding world mourning him, they had the "better him than me" attitude. Everyone was giving me attention as if I did some great thing by being Harry's friend. Nothing was right, and I couldn't take it any longer. I figured I'd use a bit of magic to make me seem like I had had a good muggle education, which would give me a bit of a head start."

"But that's against the law" I countered, beginning to feel a burning anger in me. How was she allowed to do this? If she hadn't been allowed, then she would have stayed, they would have been together now, married with kids and a house...

"I got permission from Rufus Scrimgeour. I explained my situation and he gave me permission. I assume it was probably because it was me that was asking. It was the only time I ever asked for a bit of special treatment. Anyways, I got into the publishing business and what do you know? It has turned out alright for me!" she said with a beaming smile. I, however, was not satisfied. She didn't seem to have the slightest remorse, not even a twinge of regret for leaving. My face began to feel hot.

"So just like that, huh? You just went off and lived happily ever after, not even considering the devastated people that you left behind, Hermione? How do you think that made Mum and Dad and Ginny feel, huh? How do you think it made me feel?" My heart was beating rapidly and my fists clenched tight to stop the tears from falling. Hermione could not stop her tears, though, which were streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, "just know that it was not 'just like that'. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I know that I should have communicated, but I felt you would move on easier if I just broke contact. I thought you would just forget me."

"I loved you, Hermione. I – I still do," I said, looking down at my hands. I felt my ears and cheeks starting to turn their signature red from the embarrassment of what I had just admitted. A silence followed that statement. It wasn't awkward or anything, we just both seemed to be thinking. I decided to let her talk first.

"Ron, I can't tell you how…" she paused, trying to choose the right words. "I love you so much, Ron. I was sorry I was leaving your parents and Ginny, but I was most sorry about having to leave you. It absolutely tore me up inside to think that I might never see you again. Look over on that shelf," she said, and pointed to a shelf on my left. On it sat a picture of me and Hermione hugging and smiling and kissing. We look young in the picture, so carefree and adolescent. It was sometime before the war and after sixth year. Before we were overcome with the bitterness of everything around us, before everything got complicated. A thought came to me.

"But Hermione, muggle pictures don't move"

"I know," she replied, "it took me ages to convince Herman that it was some new technology. I don't think he even totally believes me now. Anyways, I look at that picture as much as I possibly can. I miss and think about you so much, more than I think is healthy. Every man I have ever met, I have compared to you and every one of them has come up short, Ron. I love you."

A/N: Thanks for reading this! Again, please give me a review! Thanks!