So here we are, I hope you've enjoyed the series so far. It's been interesting from me to write. Can you imagine that I never even considered writing a sequel, let alone write a whole series. I'm such a pushover for my readers!

Valor.

I should not be here. I can't believe I allowed them to drag me out with them. I know that their persistence is bred from their concern for me. Though, at first, it was hard to hear, say, or even think his name, life has become tolerable without his constant presence. I am proud to say, though I felt contempt, that I haven't cried once since the morning he left.

And so, here I am, a drink in one hand, some sort of bread with no crust in the other. Surrounded by old school mates and current co-workers, I find myself able to have a good time.

My pulse quickens at each sight of black hair. Rather it belongs to him, or not, doesn't matter, my throat tightens in anticipation, only to relax in disappointment.

My anxiety isn't calmed by my sister's perpetual hovering. She will not let me out of arm's reach.

It's as if she is waiting for something. I probably feel that way because it's really me who is doing the waiting.

Until.

Until, I hear Hermione make a surprised noise in the back of her throat. The grip on my glass loosens, or does it tighten? I am not sure which as I turn around.

There he is. He hasn't changed much, if at all, I think as he pulls off his leather coat. His hair's a bit longer and he looks slimmer than I remember. I wonder if he's been eating properly.

It's then I remind myself that even though it felt like a lifetime ago that I last saw him, it's really only been a few months.

But he's not alone. There is a bloke with him. I wish for the best but fear the worst.

He greets my sister with a soft hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. She treats him warmly enough.

I hastily turn back around, hoping that he hasn't spotted me yet.

"Hey."

I swallow the lump that suddenly swells in my throat. "Hey."

We both talk into our glasses, avoiding each other's gaze. It's happening again. Unspoken words come out through unplanned actions. A touch that lingers only a moment is long enough to plant a wanting that screams his name. Despite the tempest raging within me, I manage to stay calm in his presence.

I bet he thinks that I have grown, that I am over it, over him. But of course, I'm not, and a part of me hopes that he isn't over that part of our relationship either.

As screwed up and complicated as it was, it was the happiest time of my young life.

He leans in, kisses my cheek and wraps his arms around me. How I manage not to spill my drink is beyond me.

"Ron."

I don't know how to react. I know how I want this to end, but am unsure as to how to go about getting there.

"I missed this, missed you." The words are hot breath on my neck.

"This is stupid," I say, shaking my head.

Hurt clouds his eyes, and I realize that I have said the last thought out loud. "No, not you. Well, yes you. What about him?" I ask, titling my head towards the brunette.

He doesn't even look back, but instead burrows his head into my shoulder. "He's not mine."

"Oh really, then who does he belong to?"

He smiles. "I thought that would be obvious."

I look back over and see that he's whispering into the blushing Hermione's ear. I look over to Ginny and see that she is equally engaged in a conversation with Dean.

Against the strong protest of my body, I pull out of his embrace and throwing my head back I laugh. "What's wrong with us?"

He smiles at the sound of my laughter but doesn't say anything.

I know I should not forgive him so easily, without an explanation or even an apology, but as he tilts his head to the side and runs his fingertips over my collarbone I realize that I don't care.

It takes more then a moment for me to realize that we are no longer surrounded by our mutual friends, but are instead at a house that oddly looks like Hermione's flat.

"So this is where you've been all this time?" I want to scream at him, but as he begins to tug off my jacket, and nibbles on the sensitive spot on the pulse of my neck, any thought of speaking ends.

Hooking his fingers around the belt hoops of my jeans, he leads me into the guest bedroom.

I barely have time to take in the surroundings before he is kissing me. The taste and smell of the red wine mixed with the warm, nervous touches of Harry engulf my senses.

Both of us go through our practiced routine. He undresses us both, and I softly stroke whatever skin is exposed.

It's as if we were never apart. And it's perfect.

We stand completely naked except for our socks.

"Harry."

"Ron."

There are the only words exchanged between us, the rest will come later, much, much later, as I take him in my arms and into bed.

I have a surprise for you all! I think I can squeeze out one more after this, then I am going to hand the regins of this story over to AdmitULuvMe! So give her your support in the coming sequels! I am just as excited to read what comes next!

Bramblerose4