Ron,

By the time you read this I'll be in Paris… Or Greece. Don't come after me. I know you won't like it. In fact, you'll most likely hate me for it. But you should know that you don't owe me anything, and while it was perfect, we brought out the worst in each other. Neither of us deserve that. You don't deserve to be put through a relationship where you feel obligated. Understand that I'm not running away. I'm letting you go. You can find a better love and be loved better by another. This was the only way I could make you see it, make you believe it. It's also the most painless. Looking at you makes it harder, but it breaks my heart more knowing that if I stayed, I would cause more tears of misery for you and cheat you by keeping you from the love you're meant to have. I don't want to be the source of your hurting anymore. What I want is for you to be treated right and loved unconditionally, and even though I can't be the person for you, it doesn't matter. You'll be happy. Know that you couldn't have loved me better, Ronald, but even perfect cannot keep this love alive forever. I want you to move on. So don't worry about me. I'm already gone.

Hermione

Ron drew in a deep breath as he stood just inside his doorway. A mixture of emotions he'd never realized he felt crashed down in an instant. Staring at the letter in his grasp, he was vaguely aware that his hands were shaking. But he did not feel… Broken.

He looked up to the mirror, meeting his own eyes. There was a flash of indignance and outrage for a moment. But as soon as it had come, it was gone and replaced by something else. Was it…relief? There was not a thing she had said that was not true. Part of him screamed that he should be angry and go after her because for years, that had been what he should do, what he had been expected to do. But now here it was, his freedom, in the palms of his hands. He furrowed his brow in thought, knowing she would be outright furious with him if he decided to throw his freedom away. For once, he could think about what he really wanted. Truth was, he had no bloody idea. All that had been had for him was Lavender briefly, and then all there was, was Hermione.

Hermione. She felt more and more like a memory as the seconds past. Granted, she was a good memory, the best he'd ever had. But that was just it. It was time to make new memories. Ron looked back to the letter in his hands. He was no longer shaking. He knew what he was to do. His heart beat faster in his chest, and soon it was the only thing he could hear above the daily traffic in the neighborhood outside his door. With no more hesitation, he held the corner of the parchment to the small flame atop lavender candle on the table beneath the mirror. As the fire consumed the letter from the corner of his name and down, he laid it in the basin watching it burn. He was grateful. He could not be angry. Most people would be livid, calling her out at the way she left him, but even though she was the bravest person he knew, he knew her well enough to know that the one thing that did scare her was possibly hurting someone she cared about. Especially when it came to him. He grinned to himself and let out a bittersweet chuckle as the flames consumed the last word on the parchment. It was her name. And she'd left him with one message. Live.

Hermione filled her lungs with fresh air as she stepped off the plane into the sun. It was a warm day in Paris, France, and Hermione had decided that today would be as good as any to pretend to be normal and walk as though no one knew her name in this place. With confidence she adjusted her scarf and smoothed the wrinkles from her sundress. Her large sunglasses and red lipstick were enough to distinguish herself from the modest, bookie young woman who traveled with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Gone was the girl afraid to step out of her comfort zone. Hermione had no reason to restrain herself here. There were no expectations for her to meet any longer. After all, a 22 year-old in Paris, France had the city in the palm of her hands.

Five years. It had been five years of everything she had ever expected to have. It was all she had wanted. And yet it was nothing at all. There was nothing consuming about her relationship with Ron. There was pleasantness, but there was no fire. There was no intense desire and passion that spread through her like something wild and had her body craving his touch like Ginny had with Harry. She loved Ron, but there was something missing. Now, it was time to find more.

Spotting a small, delightful-looking café on the corner, Hermione decided that that was the first place to start. Sipping on a chai tea latte, Hermione thought back to the man she had left behind. She knew he would be alright, but all she could do was hope for the best. Maybe one day they could be friends again. For now, she needed separation from the entire life she had, and Ron just needed separation from her. Hermione could not help the fact that being tied down on multiple levels sucked any freedom and adventure from her pores. She did not understand in the slightest how Harry could have done it for the majority of his life, suffering in silence and attempting to live how he chose while people continued to shove their ideas down his throat. That wasn't Hermione. She liked to think outside of the box. She liked spontaneity. If anything, Ron was constant which she admired of him. But constancy strangled creativity. Hermione knew she suffocated him, too.

So here she was. Young, free, and naught to do. She decided she'd do everything. Picking up her latte, Hermione strolled the streets of Paris, and turned into a nice little boutique with swimwear. A beach trip to relax and soak up the sun would be a grand beginning. The boutique had a surprising surplus of swimsuits and board shorts and the like considering that many beaches in France were nude. In the end, she decided on a flirty little red number. It was a deep red material with only enough fabric to just barely cover the necessary parts. If I am going to be on a nude beach, I might as well be as close to it as possible and stylish in the process, Hermione thought to herself. It would also be good to maintain some sort of modesty. If one could call it that. She finished her purchase with a see-through black cover that resembled an oversized sheer button-up and a white wicker sun hat. Hermione smiled to herself. When in Rome…

The feeling of the warm sand between her toes made her skin tingle. It had been ages. She spread out her towel on the ground and sat down, massaging sun screen into her fair skin. As she lathered the lotion in her hands, her thoughts drifted to nothing in particular. There was a part of her that felt slightly empty without the routine she had had back in London. She had left behind everyone with the only word of her leave being Ron in a letter that, if she knew him as well as she suspected, he no doubt by now had either shredded or burned. Hermione closed her eyes as the stretched out on the towel, letting the breeze wash over her and tease the flapping fabric that lay open now, showing her stomach. It was no use pondering what had happened or what was going on now. She breathed in and let out a sigh. It was different, but it was good. Hermione had a feeling the start of something grand was sure to happen at any moment.

She felt herself begin to drift off, the cool breeze and warmth of the air cocooning her in warm fuzzies as if no one could touch her while she lay on her cloud with no identity. She was just a girl now. Hermione was point seven seconds from falling into a slumber when footsteps approached her. She kept her eyes closed and chose not to care. The person coming closer would probably leave her be or she might perhaps make a new friend. Either way, the sun felt nice.

Confusion swept over her as the footsteps stilled and a shadow fell over her face. Silence. However, no sooner had she decided to confront the criminal blocking her from her UV, he spoke. He said only one word.

"Granger?"

Hermione shot up into a sitting position, mind whirling as she spun and locked eyes with him. Her heart pounded as hazel met grey in a flash of heat. Recognition conquered those eyes and with that recognition only one thought came to pass.

You've got to be bloody kidding me…