Hermione arrived home, exhausted after a long day at the Ministry. Ron was on the couch, waiting for her, as he usually was. She crossed the small room to where he sat and settled down next to him.
"Hey," she said, smiling and finally relaxing. Ron could make her relaxed even if there was a war going on outside. Which, up until three years ago, was exactly the case.
He didn't wrap his arm around her, or even answer her. She looked up into his face. It was strangely pained, with no traces of the usual banter he made when she got home. He wasn't looking at her, he was staring forward. His eyes had gotten a look that matched the expression on his face.
"Ron?"
He seemed to unfreeze. Ron looked at her, anger suddenly flashing in his eyes, gone within a second. "Welcome home," he said carefully, as if he were deciding already what he was going to say next. "You must've had a long day at work. Like you always do."
"It was okay," said Hermione cautiously. "But are you? Are you okay?"
"Am I okay? Of course I'm okay." His soft tone made her feel as if he were shouting at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just don't seem yourself..."
"I'm myself. I've just been waiting for you. And thinking."
"Thinking? A-about what?"
"A few things. One thing I lingered on, though, how I miss you."
"What do you mean you miss me?"
"You spend all your time at work. Hardly ever get home before eleven."
"Oh," Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Ron. There's just been so much to do."
"You're always tired," he continued. "You never spend time with me. You spend more time with Zabini." His words sounded rehearsed. Perhaps he'd planned them. But there was still pain and hurt in them.
"Oh, Ron, you know Blaise is my partner on this," she reminded him. "And I always try to get home as quickly as I can. But I have to come home to you, and Blaise has to get home to Pansy. I'm sorry."
"I know, Hermione. But I can't anymore." Ron breathed deeply. "What I mean is- I-I need freedom, Hermione. You're just too busy. You never have time for me. I think it's better if we split up. Just... I'll live out my life and you can do what you want with yours."
Hermione's ears rang with these unexpected words. "But-"
"Hermione, it's not you." He flinched at how cliche that sounded. "I've had... I've been attracted to other women, it's not your fault."
"Ron, I-"
"Hermione, how many boyfriends have you had before me?"
"One, but..."
"Exactly." His face had become determined. "Hermione, we can't stay together. I still... I have feelings for you, but they're fading."
"I- Ron, if that's really how you feel..."
"It is. I-I think it is."
"Then I can't do anything about it, can I?" she said sadly. She had never given up so easily. But what else could she do? It was impossible to persuade someone to love you. "I'll get my things, then."
Ron looked up, shocked. "You can't move out."
"Why not? We just broke up, you bought the place. It's only right." She fought back what seemed like gallons of tears forming behind her eyes.
"No, Hermione. I bought it for you. It's yours." When Hermione tried to say something, he lifted his hand in the universal sign for quiet. "I already have my things packed. I'll be... leaving, then."
"Ron..." Hermione started to say. He walked toward her, stroking her face. He leaned down and kissed her softly.
As he pulled away and walked towards the door, Hermione felt as though a huge part of her was leaving. Her hands reached out instinctively, trying to hold on to what had just left. She sank to the floor, right where she was, and cried. Eventually, her eyes were swollen and red, her hair tangled from running her hands through them so much. She stood up, dragging herself to where her purse sat, abandoned on the couch. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Harry's number. She would have called Ginny, but she had been too confused by Muggle technology to bother buying one. Hermione walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, heaven for her parched throat.
"Hey, Mione!" Hermione wondered why Harry's voice was so bright, after all, her world had just fallen apart.
"Hi, Harry," she said, her voice husky from crying. She cleared her throat.
"Hermione?" he said. His overprotective brotherly side showed, worry for her overshadowing his pleasant attitude. "Are you alright?"
"Could you give the phone to Ginny, please?" Hermione croaked instead of answering him.
"Er.. okay. Ginny!" he called. "It's Hermione!"
"Oh, is she here?" came Ginny's voice.
"No, she's on the cell phone."
"The cell phone?" She sounded puzzled.
"The thing I'm holding in my hand, Gin." Hermione could envision Harry shaking his head at his wife, and it almost made her smile. Almost.
There was static, and Harry said something that sounded suspiciously like, "She doesn't sound too good."
"Hermione?" said Ginny once the static cleared up.
"Hi, Ginny," Hermione whispered. Her voice still sounded raspy.
Ginny obviously noticed this, because she immediately demanded, "What's wrong?"
"I-I can't tell you. Over the phone. Can you and Harry come to our- my apartment?"
"Of course," Ginny said. Hermione knew Ginny was wondering what could be so horrible she couldn't tell her, but she didn't say anything about it. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."
Hermione hung up and went to the bathroom. She looked exactly as if she had been crying for the last hour. She splashed water onto her face repeatedly, but no amount of it would make her eyes any less red, would erase any signs of tears. Cursing silently to herself in pain, she yanked a brush through her hair, where it got caught in all the snarls and tangles. Becoming frustrated, she stormed to the sitting room and grabbed a kitchen knife that had been left there the night before. She tore at her hair with it, each cut bringing on tears she thought were all gone. She stopped when her hair was about shoulder-length, ragged and torn. She dropped the knife at her feet. Her body shook and convulsed violently with sobs; her breathing was as uneven as her hair. She sank to the floor again, her back against the wall.
She stared at her hand. It lay next to her, motionless. She could barely make out the vein on her wrist, the slow bumping of flesh as blood passed through it. Her fingers twitched toward the knife. Any physical pain was welcome, to distract her from the emotional pain. She carefully weighed the knife in her palm. Could a simple swipe make her feel better? Could it make her pain lessen at least? There was only one way to find out. She pressed the cool blade against her skin. It sliced through easily. The gush of blood gave her a strange satisfaction. There was pain, of course there was pain. But not enough to overshadow her emotions. She went for it again, her body releasing the endorphins that made her feel much, much better.
A knock on the door. Someone calling Hermione's name. When there was no answer, the door burst open.
"HERMIONE!" shrieked Ginny. She ran to her side, pulling the knife from her hands. "What are you doing?!"
"No!" moaned Hermione. "It makes it go away. Stop!"
Harry picked up her arm, his hands shaking. "Hermione, you didn't..."
She yanked her arm away. "It's nothing!"
"Hermione, that's not nothing!" Harry said, panicked.
"What happened to you?" Ginny touched Hermione's hair, looked at her wrist. She quickly conjured a bandage and wrapped it around her injury.
Hermione's lip quivered, the tell-tale sign she was about to start talking. "Ron broke up with me," she whispered. That was all she said.
"And THIS was your reaction?!" said Ginny.
"I-I just..." began Hermione, but Ginny buried her in a hug.
"I know how much you love him, Hermione. But please," she begged. "Don't hurt yourself because of him. Yes, he's my brother, but he doesn't deserve your pain."
Hermione sank against her. "Gin, you- you have no idea... I got home and-and he just said that his feelings for me were f-fading. That we couldn't be together anymore. You just don't understand what it's like."
Ginny's eyes flickered to Harry, who was kneeling on the ground next to them. She did understand. She knew how horrible it was, to break up when there seemed to be no problems, when everything was perfect between two people. But she didn't understand completely. Harry had still loved Ginny. Ron, on the other hand, didn't love Hermione. There was no chance of them ever getting back together.
"Can- can I just go to bed? Please?" Hermione looked up at them, feeling a vulnerability she hadn't felt since Ron had left that night on their hunt for Horcruxes.
"Of course," murmured Harry.
She curled up right where she was, but Harry picked her up gently. "You're not sleeping here."
She tried to protest, but as soon as he set her down on the bed, she was asleep.
A/N: I was going to make this chapter and the next a single one, but it came out to be well over 3,000 words, so I just left each one on its own! Criticism (as long as it's not too harsh) is welcome, as are suggestions, and of course praise! (: ~Potterjay All The Way
