Hermione sat on the couch in the drawing room flipping through her favorite book like every other Saturday afternoon. She had read History of Magic at least a hundred times, but it was her go to book when she was feeling anxious. Also like every other Saturday afternoon, her heart was hammering and she knew it was only a matter of time before Ron entered the room, face red, and chest heaving. He would end the fight that had started Thursday evening, and leave out of the Floo, face more red than usual. By now, she anticipated the fight and said the exact same words regardless of the sentence he started with.

At exactly 9:05, Ron opened the drawing room door, and as predicted started his rant.

"Hermione, why do you do this every weekend?"

"Ron, I'm not doing anything. Just sitting here, reading. Like every other day."

"That's exactly my point!" he screamed. "You never want to go out and do anything anymore! You just want to sit on the couch and read your precious books. I want to go out and live my life! We are only 24 for Merlin's sake! We have our entire lives to sit on the couch doing nothing!"

"Ron," Hermione began in a calm voice. "I am tired. I have been working nonstop all week. I just want to relax. By all means, please, go out."

Ron huffed, and stood there with his jaw slack. It had been hard after the battle at Hogwarts. They all had their scars. Hermione's were deep inside, and she locked them away under a pile of tomes. Ron, on the other hand, wore his on his sleeve, and prefered to drown them in a bottle of firewhiskey. When he was sure Hermione was not going to say anything else he rolled his eyes, and threw a handful of Floo powder in the hearth before stepping inside, and yelling Leaky Cauldron.

oOoOoOoO

It used to hurt Hermione's feelings when Ron would leave her alone. She hated it. She wanted him to stay home with her. To sit on the couch and watch a movie on the muggle telley, but that wasn't Ron. He would meet his 'mates' at the bar, and they would spend the entire night bar hopping.

At least that's what Hermione thought until one night in late March. Ron Floo'd into the drawing room at half past six, reeking of booze and something else. Something sweet. His hair was tousled, and he had an odd stain on the collar of his shirt. No. Hermione thought to herself he would never. She shrugged it off. The following Saturday Ron had not come home at all. He walked into the house at noon on Sunday, and acted as if he had been on a business trip. Hermione was dumbfounded. She asked him where he had been and his response was one word. "Out".

Hermione knew he had not been with Harry. He was out of town on an actual business trip in Romania. She knew deep in her stomach what she had shrugged off the week before was the first sign that her husband was cheating. Had she caused it? Was it her fault for not wanting to go out? Should she confront him? The questions piled on until her head felt like it would explode. She waited until Thursday when he would inevitably mention that his co-workers were going out for drinks on Saturday.

"Do you want to go?" he asked, already anticipating the sharp intake of breath, and the quick no.

"Yeah that sounds fun."

He was caught off guard. Hermione was studying his face, and her heart fell when she saw his face turn beet red. "Oh. Okay, wicked."

Hermione got dressed Saturday evening in her favorite dress. The one that always made Ron stop in his tracks, and stare. She walked into the kitchen, but something was off. Ron was standing by the sink in pajama pants and no shirt.

"I don't feel like going." he said. "My head is killing me, and I am tired. Do you want to just stay in tonight?"

Red flag number 3.

He glanced up at her, and instead of gawking he looked away quickly. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. She turned on her heels, and went back to the bathroom where she quickly undressed into her ugliest pajamas. The pajamas one would wear after a breakup while eating a gallon of ice cream.

The next Thursday he invited her out again, and this time she declined. She could hear the low sigh of relief come from his mouth. Saturday came, and he got dressed while she sat in her usual spot in the drawing room. Instead of storming in like he normally did he came in kissed her on the cheek, and Floo'd to the leaky cauldron.

Hermione stood up, removed her dressing gown, smoothed the collar on her new skirt, she put the glamour charms on that she had been practicing, and Floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron. She spotted Ron right away. He was leaning against the bar talking to one of his co-workers, Hermione could not remember the man's name, but she knew he was single and had a reputation for shagging a different girl every night. Hermione sat down at a nearby bar stool with her back to Ron, and ordered a glass of wine. She listened to Ron talk about work, followed by the places they planned to go tonight, and then her stomach tightened. He stopped talking abruptly, and stared at the fireplace. A beautiful woman with long blonde hair, and a tight dress was standing there with a wicked grin on her face. Ron excused himself and sauntered up to the woman. Sauntered. Hermione had never seen Ron saunter towards anything except a table full of food. The two embraced like old friends, his hand lingering on her lower back. Hermione bit her lower lip to keep from crying. She did not know anything for sure. Not yet. He was just hugging her. They could just be friends. 'Friends' Hermione kept chanting in her head. The two joined the man at the bar- Laurence- the woman called him. They had a quick shot before heading towards the Floo. Hermione paid for her wine and quickly followed. Laurence Floo'd first calling out the name of a place she had never heard of. Followed by Ron, and then his 'friend'.

"Golden Snitch." Hermione squeaked, before she was whisked away. She landed in a dark club with strobe lights, and loud music. Some people were dancing, but most were snogging in dark corners. Hermione hung back, and waited for Ron and his friends to get to the bar before fully entering the nightclub. She was immediately approached by a handsome wizard with olive skin, and piercing brown eyes. On any other night she would be flattered, but tonight she was on a mission. She politely excused herself, and went to sit across the bar from Ron. A safe distance away in case her glamour charms weren't as good as she thought. Laurence was turned away from Ron talking to a brunette with an obscene amount of cleavage showing. Ron on the other had only had eyes for one person, the blonde sitting to his right. She leaned in with her hand on his arm, raptured by whatever he was saying. His eyes glinted, and Hermione had never seen such an intense look on his face.

She was interrupted by a bartender who sat a small glass of amber liquid in front of her. "Oh. I didn't order this." she said.

"No ma'am. He did." the bartender nodded his head towards the same man that had approached her when she entered the club. She blushed, and nodded a quick thank you before taking a sip of the drink. It was smooth going down, but when it hit her stomach she felt a warmth move through her entire body. It was nice. Hermione was more of a wine and butterbeer type of girl, and never liked trying new things. Whatever that was she could get used to. She finished the glass quickly. "I'll have another, please" she told the bartender. Screw it.

She had only looked away for about 3 minutes, but when she glanced back up she felt like the drink she had just swallowed was going to come back up. Ron was leaned into the blonde, his hands lost in her hair, and their tongues were slipping in and out of each others' mouths.

OoOoOoOoO

Hermione woke up the next morning without a stitch of clothing, head pounding, and in a strange bed. Where am I? She thought. She was startled when she heard a rustling beside her, and she instinctively reached for wand that she always kept on her night stand, only to find no night stand, and no wand.

"A little jumpy there, love?" a silky voice asked. The memories of the previous night came flooding back. Ron and the slag snogging. The shots of amber liquid sliding effortlessly down her throat. The handsome man who said all the right things. Going back to his place, and having amazing sex.

"Decided to drop the glamours, I see." the man said, interrupting Hermione from her thoughts.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"It's not that hard to tell, if you know what you are looking for, of course." he replied.

"Why would you take a girl home who was wearing glamours, anyways?" she snapped.

The man laughed, before getting up and retrieving his shirt from the floor. "It's always interesting to see what those 'girls' look like in the morning" he smirked.

Hermione was dumbfounded. Did he really just say that? What kind of an arse hole had she went home with? Can't be any worse than my cheating husband she thought.

"I'm kidding, love." the man touched her shoulder, causing her to move away swiftly. She had to get out of here. She needed to go home. "You dropped the glamours around drink four. I was only seeing how much you remember about last night. Not much it would appear."

"I'm sorry." Hermione said. "I was having a bad night. I really have to go. Nothing personal, truly."

The man showed her to the fireplace, and slipped a piece of parchment in her hand before handing her some Floo powder. Hermione spun through fireplaces, feeling queasy until her feet hit solid ground. She was greeted by an angry looking Crookshanks. He hated to be left alone for an extended time, and she was sure he must be hungry. Hermione walked to the kitchen, and poured some food into his bowl before making her way to the bedroom. She was not surprised to see the bed still made with no Ron in it. She stood staring at the empty bed for a few minutes before going into the bathroom. She set the piece of parchment on fire with a flick of her wand, and turned the water as hot as she could stand it, and let it cascade down her body. She was hoping the water would wash away the previous night. Needless to say it did not work, and she ended up in the bottom of the shower, salty tears streaming down her face mixing with the water.
What had she done? In a moment of weakness she had stooped to his level. She was no better than him. She had cheated. She cried until the water turned cold, and she decided then she would try her best to fix her marriage. She was determined, and when Hermione Granger-Weasley was determined nothing could stop her. Or so she thought.

OoOoOoOoO

Hermione spent the next six months putting every last ounce of energy she had into Ron, and their marriage. She made sure dinner was ready when he got home, and instead of nagging him about leaving the toilet seat up, or forgetting to put his dishes in the sink she bit her tongue, and did it herself. On Thursday nights when Ron would ask her if she wanted to go out on Saturday she would always say yes enthusiastically. She hoped it would decrease the time he could sneak away with the blonde woman she had seen that night. At first she thought it was working. They went out a few times, and had a good time. They danced, and drank with his co-workers. Occasionally, Ginny and Harry would join them along with Neville and Luna. It was like old times, minus the demented noseless man wanting to kill them. Other weekends Ron would owl his co-workers, and tell them he was not feeling up to going out. They would stay in and talk or shag. Hermione thought that everything would be okay. She thought that her marriage was back on track.

That was until Ron started staying at work later and later, something he had never done before. Ron had specifically taken the job at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, because the hours were set, and he very rarely had to work late. Arthur still headed the office, and he never made him stay past five. Ron walked into the front door at quarter past eight for the fourth time that week, and Hermione knew instantly that he had not been at work. His lips were swollen, and he smelled of lilacs. A scent Hermione hated. She knew he had been with her. It was at that very moment Hermione knew their marriage was over. There was no coming back. Her heart broke, but instead of leaving she went on pretending like she knew nothing. She had no idea how to broach the subject of divorce, and she hated the thought of Rita Skeeter going wild in the tabloids. She could see it now "Ron Weasley, war hero, falls into arms of another women. Leaving Hermione Granger-Weasley broken." She had stayed out of the spotlight taking a job at the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. She spent her days trying to improve the lives of Werewolves in honor of Remus Lupin, and freeing enslaved House Elves in memory of Dobby. She avoided Ministry events, so the only pictures Skeeter ever got were her grocery shopping, or going out to a quiet dinner with Ginny. She knew the reporter was itching for a good story, and if the scandal ever broke she would have it.

OoOoOoOoO

December

Hermione woke up on Sunday morning to a semi empty bed. Crookshanks was curled up behind her knee, and hissed when she stretched her legs.

"Oh, stop it. Demon cat." She teased, scratching him behind his ear. "Ready for breakfast?" the cat perked his ears up, and jumped down from the bed. Food was always the way to the little beast's heart. She padded to the kitchen, and put on the kettle. She made her usual breakfast- eggs and toast. She opened the window just as a tawny owl flew in with the Sunday Prophet clamped between his talons. She paid the bird, and gave him a few pieces of toast before he flew away. She froze when she saw the front page. There were three moving pictures of Ron and the blonde woman, whose name was apparently Laureli, snogging in a corner of a dingy looking restaurant. The headline, like she suspected, read "War Hero, Ron Weasley, steps out on wife- Hermione Granger-Weasley".
Hermione skimmed the article, which was full of speculations and comments from 'unidentified sources'. Towards the end of the article was a picture of Hermione with tears streaming down her face. She recognized the picture immediately. It was taken one week after the final battle at Fred's funeral. It was the first of many funerals she would go to that week, and it tore her up the most. The caption under the picture read- "...a source, whose identity will remain unknown, sent this picture taken of Hermione Granger-Weasley after she found out about Ron Weasley's infidelity." How dare her take a picture of one of the saddest days of her life, and use it in a lie. Fucking Rita Skeeter.

Hermione heard the fireplace roar, and the familiar sound of Ron dragging his feet across the wooden floors. He walked into the kitchen, and sank into the closest chair. He clearly had not seen the paper. Hermione spun around, and shoved the prophet in front of his face.

"Ronald Weasley, what in the fuck were you thinking?" she screamed.

Ron sat frozen in place, staring as the pictures in front of him swirled. He watched as his hand fisted into Laureli's hair, and his mouth caressed her neck. He watched in horror as his hand crept up her skirt.

"Hermione, I swear it's not what it looks like." he fumbled. "I can explain. It was a mistake. A one time thing."

Hermione saw red. He was caught on camera no less, and he had the nerve to lie to her face. She picked up the closest thing to her, which happened to be her tea cup, and flung it with all her might directly at his head. He tried to dodge it, but he was too slow. The cup missed his face, but connected with his shoulder, and shattered into a hundred pieces. It didn't hurt him, but it made Hermione feel better.

"Pack your shite, Ronald. You have until noon to be out of my house." Hermione said bitterly. She stormed out of the room, too angry to cry.

She headed straight for the Floo, but had no idea where to go. She didn't want to be seen. She didn't want people staring at her, so she took the only option she felt she had. She went to Harry's house.

The Potter's were notorious for sleeping in on the weekends. Ginny was pregnant, and when she wasn't throwing up she was sleeping. The house was dark and quiet, something Hermione was counting on. She sank down in the chair beside the fireplace, and let the emotions roll through her. At first she was mad, then sad, then furious, and ended in frustration. She was frustrated that she allowed Ron to run around for as long as she did. She was frustrated that despite her efforts, her marriage had failed. She had failed. She cried herself to sleep.

Hermione awoke to a small finger being jabbed into her ribs. She cracked her eyes, and was met with a head full of turquoise hair. She groaned. "Teddy, what are you doing up?"

"Fireplace woke me. Aunt 'Mione, make me eggy bread?" he said with a big smile on his face. He knew Hermione was incapable of turning him down when he laid on the charm.

"Alright you tyrant. Only if you're really quiet and don't wake anyone else up." she whispered. She didn't want to face Harry and Ginny. She was hoping she could intersect the Prophet before they were able to see it to avoid the questions. Teddy followed her into the kitchen, but just like his mother had been, he was clumsy. His toe caught on the door jam, and he let out a loud scream that could have woken the dead. Ginny came hobbling around the corner, hair sticking up at odd angles. She saw Hermione holding Teddy, and collapsed into a chair at the table out of breath.

"Merlin's beard!" she panted. "What is going on in here? Gave me a bloody fright!"

"Sorry Ginny! I accidentally woke up Teddy, and I was going to make him breakfast, but he stumped his toe."

"What time is it?"

"Half past nine." Hermione replied.

"Seriously? It's Sunday. No one should be up this early." she groaned. "Make me breakfast too, will you? Maybe I can keep something down."

Hermione set out making Teddy's eggy bread, and tea for Ginny. She made enough for Harry just incase the commotion woke him up as well. She kept glancing out the window, still hoping she could intercept any owls. Unfortunately for her, the ministry owls knew to fly to the bedroom window since Harry and Ginny spent their mornings in bed. Hermione heard a door slam, and shortly after Harry stormed into the kitchen. He didn't see Hermione standing there and immediately launched into a rant.

"Ginny! You have to get dressed! We have to go to Hermione's. Now." he yelled. "Ron's done it. Hermione is going to bloody kill him! Teddy, go to your room."

Ted immediately started protested, but Harry ignored him and repeated himself. Teddy stomped off slamming the door behind him. Harry was still staring at the paper when Hermione cleared her throat. He looked up, and swallowed hard. "Oh. 'Mione. I didn't see you there."

She gave him a weak smile, before busying herself with breakfast again.

"What are you on about?" Ginny asked. Harry dropped the paper in her lap, and watched as her face went from confusion to furry. As much as Ginny loved her brother, sometimes she thought she loved Hermione more. She had always wanted a sister, and Hermione had stepped into that roll the minute she met her. "I'll kill him." she seethed. "How could he do this. Hermione, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." she lied. "Honestly, I don't really want to talk about it."

Ginny gritted her teeth, and picked up her tea. She tried to drink it, but it was no use. She slammed the cup down hard enough that the glass broke. She stormed towards the fireplace, and before anyone could stop her she screamed "Weasley Cottage" and was gone. Hermione rolled her eyes, and glanced at Harry. He had a worried look on his face, but there was a small glint in his eyes. He knew Ron was in for it. You didn't mess with Ginny, and this pregnancy made her even worse. Ron would, no doubt, have bats flying out of his nose for a month.

WIth Ginny gone, Harry sat down in the seat she had vacated. "Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

"I didn't want to tell Ginny because you know how she is, but honestly I've known for a while. I didn't think he would let it go to this point- tabloids and all."

"'Mione you knew?" Harry sputtered. "Why didn't you leave? Why didn't you confront him?"

"I don't know Harry! The night I saw it for myself I got pissed, and ended up in bed with a stranger. I felt like shite. I hated myself for it." she said holding her head down. "The next day, I swore I would fix it. I'd fix our marriage and make it better. I tried, truly. Then a few months later he came home smelling like her. I knew it was over, but I couldn't leave. I didn't want this." She pointed towards the paper. "I thought if I ignored it, it'd just go away."

Harry did not know what to say. Ron was his best mate. Hermione was like a sister to him. How had this happened? What the bloody hell was wrong with Ron?

"You can't beat yourself up…" Harry began. "For shagging that bloke. You were hurt. It's a normal response. At least you tried, I guess."

"Yeah. I suppose." she mumbled. "What's done is done. He chose his path, and it wasn't me. It wasn't us." Tears filled her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away. "Teddy! Come eat, love!"

OoOoOoO

Ginny was gone for almost an hour. Harry was about to go check on her, well check on Ron really when the fireplace roared. Ginny stepped through face red, and out of breath. "Arsehole, he is. He got off easy!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and didn't even bother asking what happened. "I saved you some breakfast."

She spent the rest of the day playing with Teddy in the garden, watching him zoom around on his broomstick. They ate lunch under the large oak tree, and Hermione was relieved she didn't have to answer questions about Ron. For now. She had to go to work tomorrow, and she knew she would be bombarded with reporters.

OoOoOoO

It had been six months since the Sunday Prophet was published. The reporters were finally on to the next story thanks to Draco Malfoy's engagement to Astoria Greengrass. Hermione's face was no longer plastered on the front page, and she felt free to Floo into the atrium of the Ministry instead of directly to her office. She was walking towards the lift on the sixth floor one afternoon with her nose in a stack of papers when she hit something solid. She knew it wasn't a wall, as she had memorized the perfect path to get to and from each lift platform without running into anything. She looked up, and saw a familiar face smiling down at her.

"What- What are you doing here?" she stammered.

The man smiled down at her. "Nice to see you too, Ms. Granger. I work here."

"Since when?" she replied. It wasn't obvious but Hermione was a people watcher. During her lunches she would sit in the atrium, and watch people come and go she was sure she had never seen him in the building.

"Since today." the man said. "I just got hired at the Department of Transportation, portkey department. I was just heading to lunch. Would you like to accompany me?"

"I-I-" Hermione stammered. She hadn't been 'out' since the news went public, but she supposed she was ready to start seeing other people. "Um… sure. I only have about an hour, so we will have to go somewhere close if you don't mind."

"Close it is." he said.

They walked to a nearby muggle cafe, and sat in a corner booth. "So, this is going to sound awful, but I didn't catch your name that night." Hermione mumbled.

"Wayne" he said. "Wayne Hopkins. I was in your year at Hogwarts, but I was sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I don't remember you." Hermione replied. She was surprised. Surely such a handsome face would have stood out among her peers. In the back of her mind she knew that she was so infatuated with Ron she didn't notice many boys at all.

"That's alright, love. Not many people do. I was a quiet kid. Spent most of my time in the greenhouse." he replied, noticing her retreat into her mind. He had seen the tabloids, of course who hadn't, and he wondered if that night only happened because of her husband's infidelity.

"So.." Hermione said. "Portkey Department? How did you go from greenhouses to that?"

Apparently that was the key to get Wayne into a conversation. Plants. He reminded Hermione a lot of Neville, but more confident. He leaned towards her as he talked. He was animated and she caught herself laughing at his jokes. She mostly listened, and when he asked a question that could lead back to Ron she would change the subject as quick as possible. She had came to terms with her pending divorce. Ron and Laureli were engaged now, according to the prophet the previous month. She had read the article, then set the paper ablaze. The last thing she wanted to do was bring up her ex, and ruin the positive atmosphere. Hermione glanced at her watch, and was horrified that they had been sitting in the cafe for nearly an hour and a half.

"Shite!" she squeaked. "I'm late! I have to go! This was fun. Thanks for lunch, Wayne." Hermione hurried out of the restaurant. She had a meeting with the only distributor of Wolfsbane Potion in the region, and she was now ten minutes late for it. She cursed under her breath the entire way to her office, and was relieved to walk into an empty office. Her receptionist hurried in, and informed her that Mr. Budge had called, and rescheduled their appointment for the following day. Hermione sat down in her chair, and reflected on the afternoon. She realized that the way she left the restaurant was incredibly rude, and probably left Wayne with the wrong impression. She grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment, she wrote a quick thank you note and apologized for her abrupt departure. She folded the piece of parchment into a paper aeroplane, and sent it up to the sixth floor.

Hermione had barely settled into her office when a piece of paper zoomed into her office. She assumed it was supposed to be an aeroplane like the one she had just sent, but the wings were bent, and it the tip was crooked. She smiled knowing it was from Wayne. It had taken her a good three months to perfect the art of folding the small planes.

Hermione,

I had a good time as well. I completely understand, I am sorry for keeping you from your meeting. I would love to see you again. Would you consider going to dinner with me tomorrow night? I will be out of the office for the rest of the day, but feel free to owl me at home.

Wayne

His address was written at the bottom in elegant script, nothing like the chicken scratch Hermione was used to. She smiled down at the paper. She wanted to go out with Wayne. He made her feel something she hadn't felt since Hogwarts. She felt happy. She felt like her broken heart could start to mend.