Written for a friend on Livejournal as part of a drabble meme. This one just grew a little more than expected.

Best Laid Plans

.X.X.X.X.

Hermione pulled the door shut behind her as quietly as she could, wincing as the click of the catch seemed to echo along the dark hallway.

Carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard in the centre of the hall she checked on Rose and Hugo, carefully opening and closing the doors. Happy they were asleep and safe, she carried on down to the kitchen to grab her bag and leave the house via the Floo.

Stepping down from the last stair, her brow creased as she realised the lights were already on in the kitchen, the light streaming from under the closed door onto the hallway floor. She was the last one to bed and was sure she remembered turning them off...

"Going out again, Hermione?" came a man's voice from the kitchen. Hermione pushed the door open to find a fully clothed Ron sat at the kitchen table, mug in hand.

"Ron? I thought you were out in Manchester for another night?" Hermione said, her mind racing.

"Harry and I finished up earlier than expected. You know how it goes," he replied, raising his head to watch her pour some tea from the pot on the sideboard. "So, going out again?"

Hermione's hand shook slightly as she poured out some tea. She took a mouthful as she tried to think of an answer and grimaced, the tea was almost stone cold. It was obvious he knew something was going on.

"I... Ron. Look..." She trailed off, unsure exactly what to say.

"Hermione, I think we both know what's going on. I came back from the York trip early and found you gone. The Margate trip, too, though I didn't realise it until later." He stopped, taking a sip of his own tea and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Ron-" Hermione began, but he cut her off.

"No, Hermione, don't. We both know things haven't been right for a long time. I can't say I'm not hurt but, truthfully, I can't sit here and say I'm not at fault either. Neither of us can say we've put much effort in over the last few years."

Hermione pulled out a chair and slumped onto it. It was true, with the children older, they spent very little time together. If Ron wasn't away working on a case, she was working all hours in the office...

"It's Snape, isn't it?" Ron spoke quietly, looking intently as his mug. Hermione lifted her head to look at him and knew immediately that she couldn't deny it. If there was one thing she couldn't do to him now, it was lie.

"Yes."

Ron nodded in resignation. Standing, he moved to the sink and poured the dregs of his tea away, running the cold tap to rinse the sink clear. His back to her he spoke again. "I... I'd say something to try and stop you. Argue even. But, Hermione, I don't want to. I do love you, but how I love you has changed, and I think it has for you as well."

Hermione moved to stand next to him and put one hand on his shoulder, turning him to look at her. "I know what you mean, Ron. I suppose the best way to put it is... that we've drifted apart. I feel... more like I used to, you know?"

"Like when it was the three of us? You, me and Harry, friends till the end, that sort of love?"

Hermione nodded sadly, moving to hug him. His arms moved around her slowly and tightened before he took a step back and kissed her chastely on the cheek.

"I'm off to bed," he said, motioning towards the stairs with one hand. "I'll take the kids to Diagon Alley tomorrow for the school stuff while you're at work. How about we all have a night in tomorrow and... talk this out?"

Hermione bit her lip. Things were moving fast, but... they needed to, she knew that. The shocking thing, in a way, was that Ron knew it, too, and was the one suggesting they talk.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Okay," she replied, pushing her hair back from her shoulders.

Better to sort things out now than to wait and have it all hanging. She knew just how sensitive to tension Hugo was and that Rose would guess something was up as soon as she saw the two of them in the same room. It needed to be dealt with and although she knew it wasn't going to be pretty, it had to be done, and soon.

"Ron, I... wish things were different-"

"Hermione, things are how they are. I know I should be shouting, fighting for you, but truth be told you haven't been here for a long time now and... I think I lost you a long time ago."

Hermione didn't reply, she knew it was the truth, but it still hurt to hear it. She stood by the sink and watched him cross the room, pulling the door to as he left her alone in the kitchen.

She sat down, sipping her cold tea, as she listened to the sound of Ron's footsteps up the staircase. Rubbing her cheek with the back of one hand where – without her noticing – a tear had made a track, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

.X.X.X.X.

If anyone had tried to tell Hermione Granger that when she was older she'd find herself married to Ronald Weasley, a mother to two wonderful, bright children and yet absolutely, utterly unfulfilled in some way, she would have been hard pushed not to hex them.

After all, back then she was Hermione Granger, the Know-It-All, the go-to-girl. The one who had a plan for everything and a back-up just in case. The one who never let anyone down and the one who had all the answers. If she had a plan, it would work and someone telling her otherwise wasn't welcome.

But that Hermione had long since seen the light and realised that trying to please everyone was a sure fire way to make yourself unhappy.

Plans, no matter how well laid out, didn't always follow the path you wanted them to.

Hermione's plan had failed a long time ago and the patches she'd been using along the way to compensate had finally run out. Perhaps this new path, as yet unknown, would work out for her.

Perhaps.

.X.X.X.X.