The first time Ron and Hermione broke up, it barely lasted twelve hours.

It was the usual fight – she called him to say she was caught up in urgent work at the Ministry and wouldn't make it to dinner at the Burrow, he'd tried to guilt trip her into going. Maybe she was just having a worse-than-usual day, or maybe the burden of the forty previous conversations they'd had on the same topic was weighing on her and this time was just what tipped her over the edge, but Hermione found herself screaming "Well why don't you find yourself a nice little house-wife then, because I'm certainly not going to hold you back!" before cutting off their communication spell and wiping angry tears from her eyes.

Three hours later, she'd finished redrafting her report and found herself at a loose end. She couldn't go back to her small Bayswater flat yet – there was always a chance Ron would check in and accuse her of lying about work to get out of a family dinner, as if he didn't know that she loved the Weasleys as much her own relatives – and everybody else she knew would probably be at the Burrow.

In her mind she checked off her options. Harry was out, obviously. He was caught in the middle when things were tense between her and Ron as it was – factor in his increasingly serious relationship with Ginny and the fact that the two of them were almost certainly going to dinner tonight and you had a best friend who was utterly useless as a sounding board for relationship troubles. On top of that, her best female friend was her boyfriend's only sister, her actual mother was on the other side of the world with no memory of her existence and her maternal stand-in was Ron's mum and hosting the bloody dinner in the first place.

She didn't have the patience right now for Neville's concern or Luna's nonsensical conversation and she'd never been close to any of the other girls at Hogwarts. Dean and Seamus would be happy enough to see her, but utterly nonplussed if she started to unload about her emotional dramas, and basically every other friend she had was a Weasley. Bill, Fleur, Percy, Charlie… all of them would be huddled round the table in the Burrow's cramped kitchen.

George wouldn't be there, but George was very rarely anywhere these days. He haunted the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, putting in obligatory appearances at his parents' home at Christmas and on birthdays but keeping himself to himself otherwise. Nobody admitted it, but most of them preferred it that way – it just felt wrong, seeing one of the twins without the other, and nobody could look at George's hollow face without thinking about Fred.

Molly still saw him, of course. Mrs Weasley was always the strongest of them all, and she wasn't about to lose another of her boys. Surprisingly, Percy was the other family member who had stepped up. He ran the joke shop now, taking the reins as his brother retreated from the world. He had no flair at all for creating new products, but he had a good head for business and he was able to keep things ticking over with the existing range.

Hermione helped him from time to time, working with replicating spells to produce more stock from the products the twins had invented. Her work took her to Diagon Alley frequently – digging out clandestine Death Eater activity was often about following the money and she found herself at Gringotts on a regular basis – and she always made a point of popping in. She and Percy had always had quite a bit in common, and even though seeing George this way caused a painful pang in her chest it didn't discomfort her to the same extent it did most of the others.

Nevertheless, George would not be in any fit state to provide the company she craved tonight, so Hermione found herself propping up the bar at the Leaky Cauldron shortly after leaving the Ministry. Things got a little hazy after switching from Butterbeer to Firewhiskey, and the last thing she remembered with any clarity was informing Tom that she needed "s'frendsh who aren't bloody Weazleesh!" before making her way unsteadily out of the bar and onto the cobbles.

The next morning Hermione awoke, head pounding and mouth paper dry, in her own bed. At least I managed to Apparate without splinching myself, she though ruefully, conjuring herself a glass of water. A memory prickled at the back of her mind – a shock of red hair and long arms holding her close to a strong chest – but she pushed it to one side. Hardly surprising that she'd dreamt about Ron under the circumstances.

The water did a little to alleviate her hangover but nothing for her misery, and when Ron knocked sheepishly on her front door an hour or so later she let him in without a word.

In the corridor, George Weasley turned the corner towards Hermione's flat to see the familiar figure of his younger brother closing the door behind himself. Wordlessly, George slipped the hangover cure potion he and Fred had invented after the shop's opening party into his pocket and turned on his heel.

Their second breakup lasted almost three months.

It was quieter this time, less spur of the moment although there was still some shouting from Ron. Hermione came home from a work trip to Bulgaria to find Ron sulking in their flat – they'd moved in together despite her misgivings. He told her that she'd been away too long, and she told him as gently as she could that her career was always going to be important to her, and if that was going to be a problem for him then perhaps they would both be happier apart. Ron had protested at first, but when it became clear that she wasn't going to budge he'd pretended to understand, packed his bags and headed back to the Burrow.

The following weeks were lonely for Hermione. She saw Harry and Ginny regularly, but Ron's spectre was always there, the elephant in the room. It was similarly awkward with any of their other mutual friends from Hogwarts. She threw herself into her work and tried to join in with social events with others from the Ministry, but she was always going to be Hermione Granger, War Hero, to them and she found their awestruck simpering exhausting. She missed the warmth of the Burrow and the wider Weasley family, and the easy familiarity of time spent with others who had been through the war at her side.

The only place she found any real respite was at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. There was some comfort in reminding herself that she wasn't the only social leper of their little clan, and George's silences bothered her less and less. She'd noticed on previous visits that Percy seemed reluctant to leave his brother alone, and her extremely clear social calendar made it easy for her to volunteer her evenings and allow Percy some time to rekindle his relationship with Penelope Clearwater. Just because she had no personal life to speak of didn't mean everybody else had to go without.

Anyway, sitting in the flat above the shop with George beat sitting home alone even if he wasn't the liveliest of company. It was painful at times to look at the young man opposite her and remember the out-going boy she'd once known, but she appreciated that he didn't feel the need to put on a show for her. He tried his best for Molly and the wider family, even for Percy to an extent, but the two of them had reached a silent understanding. She let George mourn as much as he wanted and he never alluded to her relationship status at all. It was as comfortable as either of them were likely to get at that point.

She even saw some progress in him over the weeks. One night, when poring over the ledgers of some offshore accounts vaguely connected to the LeStranges was starting to cause her eyes to blur and her head to ache, Hermione decided to distract herself by trying to come up with some new products for the shop. Percy hadn't said much, but she could tell that he was worried about WWW . It had been over a year since Fred's death and demand for the twins' old jokes was drying up.

It was only April, but Hermione knew that it would take months to get any successful prototypes into production so she decided to set her sights on the festive season. She placed a sprig of mistletoe on the table and set about charming it to sing embarrassing rhymes about any couples who might kiss under it. At the other end of the table she noticed that George was looking at her intently, more engaged than she'd seen him in weeks.

She worked quietly under his gaze, only looking at him when the charm was almost done. "I've got the spell-work under control, but I might need some help coming up with the songs", she explained. For a split second she thought she saw a flash of the old George, but then he hesitated and shook his head.

"Alright," she said, putting the sprig to one side with a shrug. "We'll see whether Percy can come up with anything."

She pretended not to notice the curl of his lip at that, or the fact that the mistletoe was singing songs that would make Peeves blush on her next visit. She was quite sure that most of the words used had never entered Percy's vocabulary, but she and the older Weasley just exchanged small smiles behind Georges back as the plant yelled on.

Over the next few weeks Hermione thought she detected more and more of these moments of George-ness; the odd smile when he thought nobody was looking, some unfamiliar prototypes cropping up around the flat. She was less surprised than the others by sight of him looking marginally more comfortable amongst his friends and family at Harry and Ginny's engagement party a few weeks later.

She was nervous, returning to the Burrow as Ron's ex, but it was also a relief to find herself in the familiar, comfortable living room of the Weasley house. Harry and Ginny greeted her warmly but had plenty of well-wishers to see, and after a brief catch up with Hagrid and some of the Hogwarts professors Hermione found herself wedged into a corner with Neville, Percy and Penelope. George was with them with for a short while, but Lee Jordan made his way over to say a tentative hello, and George surprised them all by wandering off to the kitchen with his oldest friend. Hermione and Percy exchanged smiles – hopefully, the improvement they'd been seeing was the start of something bigger.

The evening passed amiably enough – Mrs Weasley was in her element as mother of the bride, far too busy clucking over the lovebirds to turn any cold stares on the woman who'd broken her youngest son's heart, and it was fun catching up with Neville. Eventually, though, he had to bid her a rueful goodbye and take his grandmother home, and Percy and Penelope had slipped off to some darkened corner of the garden together.

Hermione found herself alone and morose, a few too many drinks in, watching Harry and Ginny smile beatifically at one another. It was impossible not to consider her own loneliness, and the thought of walking out of the warmth and comfort of the Burrow and not seeing it again for months gnawed at her uncomfortably, so when Ron appeared at her side a little while later and held out his hand, she twined her fingers in his with a grateful sigh.

They talked late into the night, and she wasn't sure if she was imagining things when she glimpsed a frown on George's face as he said goodbye.

Their third break-up was the easiest and most civil by far, and also the saddest.

It came as Ron and Hermione sat side by side at the head table in the pavilion set up in the Burrow's garden for Harry and Ginny's wedding. They sat in silence, sipping at champagne while they watched the newlyweds twirl around the floor.

Abruptly, Ron finished his drink and turned to Hermione.

"They're so happy." He stated simply, gesturing towards the couple with his empty glass. Hermione just nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He continued, quieter now, "We… We're not, are we? Not like them."

This time Hermione looked at him as she shook her head, not quite trusting her voice. He was right, and she'd tried to tell him months ago, but at the same time she'd miss him more than she could possibly say. She met his eyes and saw everything she was feeling mirrored there.

He stood as more couples filtered onto the dance floor and extended a hand to her. Tears filled her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I will always love you, you know," she whispered. She heard Ron swallow as he nodded into her hair.

"Yeah, 'course," he replied. "Me too… After everything, Hermione, things just wouldn't be the same without you around, y'know?"

She pulled back to look at him, smiling though her tears.

"I'll always be here – or I will in a while, at least. It'll be hard at first but you're right. After everything the two of have been through, it'd take a lot more than this to tear us apart."

He gave her a sad smile in return and hugged her to him for the rest of the song. As the music faded they stepped apart for what Hermione knew would be the last time in a long while. She meant what she said – she and Ron were going to be part of each other's lives until the day they died – but he was her first love, and she his. Things were going to take time to get back to normal.

"I think I'm going to wish the newlyweds well once last time and make a quiet exit," she told him. "Not really in the mood for a party."

He nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me neither. But I guess I'm staying here tonight, so I'll have to stick around. I'll come by tomorrow to pick up my stuff if that's ok?" She nodded.

"Alright – I'll pop in about midday. It's ok if you don't want to be there. I'll tell mum in the morning too and... see you around, I guess?"

She nodded again. She knew in her heart that they were making the right decision, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt and the finality of his words combined with the happiness of the couples dancing around them was knocking the wind out of her. She drew a breath and said the only thing left to say.

"Bye, Ron."

"Bye, 'Mione"

With that she went to give Harry and Ginny one more hug before beating a hasty retreat, tears beginning to spill as soon as she was out of sight of the laughing crowd. She ducked behind the hedge at the bottom of the garden as she began to sob in earnest, figuring the risk of a gnome attack was a worthwhile price to pay for privacy while she pulled herself together enough to Apparate home.

A larger-than-gnome-sized figure stirring beside her caused her to cry out in shock, and she found herself looking at the sympathetic face of George Weasley. Taking in her tear-stained features, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You and Ron?"

She nodded. "Fo- for good this time." She hiccupped, unable to stop crying now that she'd let rip. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then took both her hands in his.

"Right," he said, gently but firmly. "Side-along back to the shop it is. Misery loves company, there's a stash of Firewhiskey at the back of the kitchen and the last place you need to be tonight is the flat the two of you shared."

He whisked them away from the garden before she could object, not that she was certain she was going to.