Happiness is by choice, not by chance.

Hermione ran toward Ron and her lips painfully crashed into his. Hands flew over their bodies as they struggled to get a hold of the other, to bring each other closer.

They kissed for a while, but when they finally parted for air, they were both panting in exhaustion and lust. Hermione gazed at Ron through half-lidded eyes and Ron brushed a finger against her puffy, bruised lips.

They were in love, they knew it.

Ron was married to his school sweetheart, and he was happy...right?

(Well, maybe she wasn't so much of a sweetheart anymore.)

For one, Hermione was working for so many hours that Ron only saw her face on the weekend. Then, of course, she hardly talked to him anymore-they had kind of lost the original chemistry they used to have.

(If they held a conversation at all these days, it usually led to a blow out argument. They tried to avoid that at all costs.)

And, well...they hadn't even kissed for months. The most they did anymore was a peck on the lips. Ron missed the melding of their lips, the feeling of her flesh against his.

There was no more action, no more flare. Ron thought he loved her, but nowadays, he found himself at the bar, watching other ladies dance and swish their hips.

Ron thought he loved her.

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione started ranting again about her stupid job and her stupid colleagues and her stupid meetings.

All she did was work. Ron swore that if he wanted to spend any time with his wife, he would probably have to book an appointment.

"Hermione, would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow night?" Ron asked, desperately trying to salvage their breaking marriage. Maybe if he spent some time with his wife, he could remember why he married her in the first place.

"Sorry Ron." Hermione didn't even look upset that she was blowing him off. "I already told Fay I'd be eating dinner with her. We have to discuss-"

"Hermione, I'm your husband. We haven't eaten dinner out in ages. You should be able to take one night off to eat with me," Ron interjected. Hermione was so insensitive these days...it was almost as if she didn't care for him anymore.

"I'm really sorry, Ron, but I have to attend this," Hermione said with a tone of finality.

Ron thought for a moment. "Then...next week?"

"I have a board meeting that day."

"Week after?"

"I have a meeting with my boss that day," Hermione said. "I think that maybe...the seventeenth is convenient."

Ron stood up, his voice raising involuntarily. "That's more than a month from now!"

Hermione showed no emotion as she told him, "I have work to do, Ronald."

Ron glowered down at her. "You can't take just one day off for me?"

Hermione looked up at him, her eyebrow raised, as if suggesting to take a day off to spend time with him was the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "No, Ron. My work is important."

"More important than me?" There was a tense silence as Hermione stared up at him, her face completely devoid of anything. "Hermione, we haven't done anything together in a long time. It's almost like we're complete strangers now."

"Ron-"

"Do I know you? Are you the Hermione I fell in love with?" Ron asked, edging her on. "Because I'm definitely not liking this workaholic version."

Hermione stood up to face him. "You are important, and I'm just the same Ron. You're the one who's changed, Ron. You're always expecting too much from me, and getting mad for no reason-"

"I have good reason to get mad! My wife puts her fucking job above her husband-"

"Ron, don't push my limits-"

"Hermione, I don't want to fight with you anymore," Ron yelled, and Hermione stopped mid-sentence, her eyes angry and cold.

"Choose, once and for all-me, or the Ministry?"

Ron honestly wasn't surprised when Hermione said that she would stay faithful to her job, no matter what.

He packed his stuff and left, the door of their (not his, anymore) house quietly closing behind him.

There were no second thoughts, no good byes.

Ron didn't look back.

Hermione leaned against the door, listening to the eerie silence of the house that they had bought together.

Now she would live alone in it.

The tears came without warning. Water steadily flowed down her face, but Hermione refused to make a sound.

She would not cry for Ron. Why should she care about a person who ignored her, who fought with her, who left her? No, Ron did not deserve her precious emotions.

Hermione would not cry for a person she did not love anymore.

Happiness is by choice, not by chance.

Maybe I made the wrong choice on you.

A/N: OTP breakups are the worst, aren't they?

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