authors note: hello to all old readers of this story and new! I am pleased to say I am back! I am rewriting this story and bringing it from the ground up. my intent is to weave a new world with the same storyline, hopefully just better written and even more interesting. There will be little changes I warn you but nothing too drastic (at least not yet!). so here it is, after a hiatus that was far too long, chapter one. I understand this is later than promised in the explanation, but I really wanted to get it right.

song recommendations: coming home: skylar, take me to church: hozier, i'm not the only one: sam smith, hello: adele. (any song suggestions please inbox me/write it in the reviews!

hello from the outside.

-x-

Decisions had never been his strong suit, that had always been left to the leader Harry, or the brightest Hermione, never him. He had gone along with everything, hoping to come out the other side unscathed. Thus he had never really been the most decisive, had struggled with thinking before acting, or making decisions based on 'gut instinct'; honestly Ron wasn't even sure if gut instinct existed, maybe instead it was just a cry for food or a dodgy stomach?

His grip on the glass of fire whisky was shaky, and that was not because he was half way down the bottle, that was nothing to him. A Tuesday nights average. It was shaky, because the time had come; it had been too long, and finally Ron had to decide, decide the path his future would take. Of course there would be many variables, but this was the first decision, to return, or not to return?

A groan left his lips, followed by the sound of glass slamming on the wood. Chucking some coins on the bar, he stumbled to standing, and made his way out of his local. The walk back was fairly pleasant, the cobbled streets leading to home...

or was it home?

He had lived here for two years now and in this country, another five on top of that, but still was it really home compared to the Burrow? Was it a place he would ache to give up, as he had when he fled England? He didn't think so, and with another ill sounding groan, he realized the decision had already been made for him, ever since the split, the divorce, the division of assets and all the crap that came between, the decision had been made. Ron did not belong here, not anymore. He may have the accent, the look and even the way of life, but this wasn't home.

And if this wasn't home, it was time to head back to the place that was.

Many reasons were forcing his decision. He was lonely in the US, drinking away every night with a few friends to pass the time and not much else. He wanted back to his family, to his old friends, to his old life. He reckoned they'd be so relieved he was coming back, they'd welcome him, and that was what he needed – to be welcome. He wanted back to his friends, his job was easy enough to move, it all seemed to make sense.

He wanted back, back to everything he had left behind; especially her.

Packing didn't take too long, most he had already transported to the room he had booked at the Leaky Cauldron via Owl Post. Now it was just a matter of clothes, and sentimental's, the former he had already done and the latter he didn't have much of. Lavender had taken most of their heirlooms that had come from their marriage, and he had happily given them to her.

Their marriage had crumbled a long time before it had ended, and out of the two of them, he was happy to let go, where as she? Had held onto him for as long as possibly could, hence the delay between problems and divorce.

With a deep breath, and a last look around the apartment that had been his home for over a year now, Ron closed his eyes and felt the similar suction around his lungs, the squeeze of his stomach, and whirl as the area around him changed. In seconds his eyes were back open and the previous tightness around his middle was over, he was back. Standing outside the little pub in which he would be staying, he couldn't help but smile – a sense of relief, of home was washing over him. That alone was reassuring; he had made the right decision.

Grabbing his case, he turned toward the Leaky Cauldron, and walked on forward. First he would settle down, and then to the Burrow to see his family, it was only after he would see them, that he would track her down. Though he was returning home for several reasons, she had to be one of the main ones; when the problems with Lavender had begun, he couldn't help compare her to Hermione, couldn't help but think how things would have been different with his first love. There was no denying when he followed Lavender he was still very much in love with Hermione. And even after so many years with Lavender and on his own, being back in England for less than 2 minutes, he could see himself falling back for her, could imagine how much better things would be with Hermione than they had ever been with Lavender, and so he would find her and hopefully repair their relationship.

It was not that he hadn't loved Lavender, he had come to love Lavender but it was nothing like he had felt for Hermione. He regretted leaving her behind, and only hoped she would forgive him for it.

A part of him wondered whether she was still waiting for him; how joyous that would be. To find Hermione alone and ready to welcome him back with open arms. He had thought about her a lot during his time in the US, and imagined her with a high flying career, plenty of cash but a husband? He couldn't imagine it, and he hoped he could fulfill that role.

Hermione had been his soulmate, his other half and he had thrown it all away for the escape away from reality after the war. He had been weak, but now he had to be strong if he had any chance of winning Hermione back. And he would, he was determined, Ron knew as soon as he and Lavender had fallen apart, that Ron should have spent the last 7 years with Hermione, she was his person, he was sure of it.

'Scorpius Malfoy, you get down from there this very instant!'

The only response to her demand was the sound of her son's giggles, he had a hand to his mouth, the other loosely holding onto the bannister, his legs swinging either side. He had the glint of mischief in his eye that Hermione knew all too well.

'I mean it, final warning young man'

'Don't want to' Her son was in a very mischevious mood this evening, having received top marks on his report card, and going almost a month without any detentions (a record in their house), he had come home and had been causing trouble for hours, from chasing the cats around the living room whilst screaming at the top of his voice, to ending up on top of the bannister with little effort. This was not the first time he had done it, along with the flashes of green light that left his fingertips when he was scared, her son was already showing signs of magic, and unfortunately, the fact that he could get up to high places with next to no effort, caused Hermione to keep a constant watchful eye on her son.

Goodness he was just like his Father.

An exasperated sigh left Hermione's lips as she merely jerked her wand, flying him down to stand in front of her. His bravado gone, her little devil was looking worried.

'How many times have I told you how dangerous that is?' Her voice was in a very 'Hermioneish' tone, indicating she was not happy, Scorpius picked up on it immediately, her son may be many things but he was also incredibly bright and perceptive, and he adjusted his expression to sorrowful immediately. 'Up to your room and no ice cream after dinner, underst..'

Her voice was cut off by the sound of her daughter, shrieking from in the kitchen. Rolling her eyes to the heavens, Hermione shot Scorpius a look saying 'you-even-think-about-causing-trouble-when-I'm-gone-and-you'll-be-in-serious-trouble', that he nodded too, running off to his room, mumbling to himself about how he was sure Daddy would let him have ice cream, unfortunately Hermione thought he was probably right. Draco could be strict when need be but much preferred playing good cop.

For a moment on her way to the kitchen, Hermione's eyes flickered to her watch. It was 5pm, and Draco was a little bit late. It was a Friday and they were having guests over, so he had promised to be back early. Biting her lip, Hermione knew she shouldn't be worried; he would be back when he could be. The worry was a side effect of his job, he caught dark wizards for christs sake, being an auror wasn't exactly the safest, so Hermione did tend to panic if he was late. Still making her way forward, Hermione was sure he would be back soon.

Running into the kitchen wand in hand, Hermione placed her hands on her hips when she saw why such loud cries were coming from her daughters lips. They were not cries of pain or worry as Hermione had suspected but rather cries of delight. Rose was sitting on the kitchen counter, a very large spider dangling between her fingers. In between her shrieks of delight, she was chatting away to 'Mr Spider'.. good lord her children were odd.

'Rose what on earth are you doing?' Turning to her Mother with a cheeky grin, she dropped the spider promptly, and a large grin split across her cheeks. With a small grin of her own, Hermione scooped her daughter into her arms, placing her on her hip, her eyes going to a shattered plate on the counter; that had been happening frequently when Rose was excited, clearly both of her children had inherited her and Draco's magical abilities.

Placing Rose on the sofa, and turning on the television to the children's channel, Hermione bustled into the kitchen, time to put dinner on; they had guests coming tonight, and though Draco usually cooked, tonight Hermione had taken the reigns.

With a small giggle at her own lack of cooking skills, Hermione knew she couldn't get away with take out this time; she had done that when the Zabini's had been over, and this time she was determined to cook. Walking into the kitchen, and summoning the ingrediants, Hermione tapped the radio, leaving it at a low volume, she began to hum along to the muggle music, supervising three knifes chopping vegetables, and a pot bubbling on the stove.

It was the low key music, the clatter of kitchen utensils, her daughters giggles at the muggle children's programme, the patronus that appeared in the Kitchen from Draco telling her he would be home soon and not to worry and the general wash of relaxation over her back, that caused Hermione to miss the gentle knock of the door.

His eyes glanced up at the house, the house in which his Mother had directed him. Going back to the Burrow had been tough, but pleasant all the same. His family had welcomed him back, initially by yelling at him, and then accepting him. They all had, he hadn't been there long, just enough for a cup of tea, and he hadn't seen everyone. Ginny was at work, as was George, Bill and Fleur were at their cottage, and Charlie was abroad. It had only been his parents and Percy there to great him. Still they had accepted him and that was enough for him, it had been short but sweet.

Now here he was, the address his Mother had given him. He was at a bit of a loss really, not that he minded. His Mother hadn't really said much about Hermione, Harry or anyone for that matter, she pointed out that they were going to have a big catch up at a family dinner later in the week with everyone there. That was fine with him; his priority was Hermione.

He couldn't wait to see her, and imagined her face when he greeted her. She'd be angry of course, but then happy he was sure. Even after all this time, he still reckoned he knew Hermione better than anyone.

The house was beautiful, big with a large lawn out front. One car stood in the driveway. It was very pituresque. Honeysuckle creeping up the sides of the house. Vines wrapped around the edges of windows. The lawn out front had flower beds, and a plum tree stood at the bottom of the garden. It was beautiful, and not at all what he expected of Hermione. Had his Mother got the address wrong? Surely this place was too big for just Hermione, he imagined she would live somewhere smaller. For a moment doubt creeped in; what if she had found someone?

He shook his head then, he knew Hermione and wasn't being arrogant in guessing that she was alone. She would be more focused on her career, she wouldn't have room for anything else; though hopefully that would change now he was home. He had been in love with Hermione, still was really, and she had been in love with him. If it hadn't changed for him, he bet it hadn't changed for her.

Taking a deep breath he made his way to the door. His guess was his Mother had gotten the address wrong. So as he stepped up, he imagined some kindly woman greeting him, in a fluffy jumper and skirt. He imagined she would direct him to one of the smaller houses down the street, to where Hermione lived.

With a nod and confidence in his stride, he came to a halt at the maple brown door and knocked thrice. Now was the moment of truth, time to find out what had happened to his long lost love.

With a wave of her wand the vegetables flew into the pot, followed by a bubbling of the stove. More knives flew out of the draw to cut the meat, her wand supervising them as they did. Pot Roast was her best meal, and her best bet for a large party. One oven held the veg, potatoes and soon the meat, and the other side of the oven held little bits of party food which she would feed the kids.

The radio was humming a soft tune, and she hummed along before switching to the news channel. It was pretty mundane nowadays. The aurors did a great job at keeping all folk and Voldemort wannabes in line, and in (the now dementor free) Azkaban. All was well in the UK. Of course there were still issues, still Death Eaters to be caught, thiefs to be tried and purebloods who just hadn't let go. Still it was nice to listen to the radio, and hear that things seemed to be going well.

Opening the window with a flick of her wand, Hermione then flicked it at the freezer, an assortment of items coming out to slide into the oven. Cooking was much easier with magic, she had tried a few times from scratch with hand but it had not gone well. There was a reason she wasn't the main cook in the family, however she had given Cobble the night off, the (well paid!) house elf was spending time down in Hogwarts kitchens with some of his friends tonight, after Hermione had insisted she wanted to cook herself.

As she cooked, and the radio continued to go on about the weather, Quidditch and improvents in the Ministry, Hermione allowed her mind to wander, allowed the cool breeze to sweep over her body. Life truly was wonderful.

He knocked three times, nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He felt sick, and he was worried; he didn't want Hermione rejecting him on spot. Though if she did he would win her back, in the grand scheme of things 7 years was not such a long time, none of them were even 30 yet. He had time to bring her back to being his; he did.

Cracking his neck to the side, the door swung open and a for a moment he genuinly debated making a run for it. He had been on the receiving end of it before, and it had not been pretty. However, it wasn't Hermione on the other side of the door as it came to a stop, instead it was a young boy, no older than 5, in a private school uniform of what looked to be a very expensive muggle school. He had shockingly blonde hair, and eyes that Ron couldn't help but call familiar. With rosy cheeks, he looked like the poster boy for muggle children; so Ron knew he had been right, Hermione didn't live here, with a whoosh of breath of relief, Ron realised as he had suspected Hermione probably did live in one of the smaller houses down the way.

'Hello there, is your Mum home?' He asked politely and the boy nodded, looking wary and curious at the same time. Turning away for a moment, the boy yelled 'Mum' loudly before stepping to one side, hugging the door frame.

With a smile of reassurance, though Ron was sure it was strained, Ron waited, waited for the boys mum to direct him to the right house.

Only a moment passed before the boys mum came into view, slightly out of breath from her rush to the door. Dressed in a grey jumper, dark grey tracksuit bottoms, with her feet bare. Her hair was pilled up on her head in a messy bun, and there was smudges of grey under her eyes. On her left hand she wore a wedding ring, and stunning silver diamond engagement ring. She looked tired, and then shocked as she took in the person stood in front of her.

Ron's mouth dropped open, and he took a step back; 'Hermione?' He spoke quielty, but he knew she caught it as a gasp of recognition left her lips. He couldn't believe it, here she was in the perfect family house with the blonde haired boy now clinging at her leg, and a young girl of about 3 stuck on her hip, her hair was identical to Hermione's, brown and bushy but her eyes were a pale blue. Both children looked confused, but not as confused as Hermione.

However, out of all four of them, Ron would vouch he was the most lost, not only did Hermione clearly have two children, but apparently another on the way, if the bulge under her jumper was anything to go by. He couldn't believe it. Here Ron was expecting to walk back into Hermione's life as though nothing had happened, yet here she was, a family in tow and a real life she had made for herself. Hermione had moved on, as he never truly had, not even with Lavender.

'Ron...what on eart' She was cut off then by the loud crack that indicated apparation. Raising one eyebrow slightly, a look of knowing dawned across Ron's face. He would have bet every cent he had that he was about to meet the Father. Ron wasn't sure what to expect, all he knew was that if Harry strolled to the door to meet him, Ron might pass out.

'Darling?' He heard and slightly recognized the voice but not enough to place it. 'Darling, what are you do..' The mans voice stopped as he too came into view. Dressed in a fine, expensive black suit. His hair ruffled, and his face showing a mixture of anger and disbelief, his arm immediately snaked around Hermione's waist, which caused anger to give way to shock as Ron looked across at him.

'Hermione?' Ron said straining to keep his voice calm; she was pregnant after all. 'You didn't?

Hermione didn't say anything, her expression changed though to one of outrage, to one of anger. She curled further into her husband (if the matching wedding rings were anything to go by), and glared at Ron then; my god how things had changed. He she was curled into their worst fucking enemy, glaring at Ron as though he was the bad guy, what on earth had happened whilst he had been gone?

'You didn't marry Draco fucking Malfoy?'

ahh, so what did everyone think? It's similar to the old first chapter, so old readers I understand if you were a bit bored, but I am rewriting the first couple of chapters before developing more in the later chapters so apologies! still reviews from all readers are HUGELY appreciated. It's what keeps me writing!

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and of course enjoy, see you soon.