Thanks, as always, to Jo whose generosity is letting us use her characters in our own way remains strong, despite all provocat

Thanks, as always, to Jo whose generosity is letting us use her characters in our own way remains strong, despite all provocation. Thanks also to jules1278 and kitthebrave for love and beta'ing.

Cracked Skies

You're in my mind all of the time, I know that's not enough
Well, if the sky can crack, there must be some way back
To love and only love
U2, Electrical Storm

Grimmauld Place didn't mean the same thing to Ron as it did to Harry and Hermione. To them, it was just the creepy home of Sirius' evil relatives; the sort of people they wanted to stop. To him it stood for everything that had always been wrong in the world. People with power and money lived in places like this. They were corrupt even when You-Know-Who wasn't around. People like Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't count for anything to them. They bought, stole and bribed their way to having the loudest say in how things were done. He'd figured Muggles didn't have those sort of problems because Hermione didn't understand how pointless it was trying to change the system with people like that around. Smart as she was she never seemed to have figured out just why his Dad didn't earn a decent living.

However, tonight Ron intended to take advantage of one of the few benefits of being here. They deserved a reward after a day like this and he had figured out a way for them to have one. Not surprisingly though, when he went into one of the few clean sitting rooms with a working fireplace he found Hermione sitting alone. Harry must have taken himself off again. It wasn't as though he minded the time with Hermione but after learning about the locket you'd think he'd at least want to discuss the situation. They were supposed to be doing this together. It hurt her feelings. Ron headed towards the ornately carved, ceiling high, cabinet that hadn't yet yielded to their casual attempts to open it.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking up. She was sitting on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, staring at her knees. Ron was a little surprised she'd even noticed he'd come into the room.

"Turns out it's the drinks cabinet. I got the key from Kreacher. 'Course he thought Master Harry might like a drink but since Harry's taken himself off for the night I don't see any reason you and I shouldn't benefit."

"Are you sure that stuff's safe?" she asked as Ron swung the heavy doors open.

"Pretty sure. I can't see Purebloods poisoning the expensive booze," he observed, pulling various bottles out to examine them in the light.

"Now, let's see what we've got here. Ah, St. Amand's Brandy. The Delacours brought Mum a bottle of that as a gift. Bet that's good. And here's some top-notch Firewhiskey. Excellent."

He brought out two crystal glasses and poured them each a sizable amount of liquor after joining Hermione on the couch.

"What's worrying you tonight?" Ron asked her, as he had most nights. "Besides Harry, that is?" he added quickly, as he had most nights. It could be anything really, what with all that happened; Kreacher's sickening story, Scrimgeour's death, about how to get the locket from that utter toad, Umbridge, the news of his family. Or it could be Harry.

Most of the time Ron thought he was the one she wanted now. Sometimes he was even certain of it. It was the why that still troubled him. After all, he was pretty much throwing himself at her. He reminded himself of first year Hermione, hand in the air, bouncing on her toes, every inch of her crying out "Pick me, pick me." At the time he thought it was sad, really, wanting to always come first like that; like she was afraid she'd disappear if the Professor didn't think she was the best in the crowd. Now he'd laugh at the irony if it didn't taste of bile. He's so transparently trying to stay visible. Pick me over them. Pick me over him. He rather hated himself at times.

"Come on," he pleaded mockingly, "aren't you talking to me? I didn't do anything really stupid today."

"No, I guess you didn't," she said, giving him one of those sudden, sweet smiles he loved. It was almost nice not knowing exactly how to earn them, instead having them occasionally drop into his lap like Christmas presents in July. "I can't figure out who did though, Lupin or Harry," she said, turning toward him, puzzled. "Who do you think was right, Ron?"

He hated when she put him on the spot like this, especially when it came to anything Harry did. It was like that dream he had where McGonagall asked him question after question when he hadn't done the reading and wouldn't get to Hogsmeade if he didn't know the answer. There was no way to get it right with too much riding on the question.

Luckily she didn't wait too long for him not to answer this time. Sipping her brandy, she said, "Of course I can see why Harry's upset, after losing his parents and living with those terrible Dursleys. But to say those things to Remus. How could he hurt him like that?"

"But then," she continued, "I don't understand him either. Tonks iswonderful, isn't she? If she doesn't care that's he a werewolf that should be good enough for him. And a baby," she breathed. "Oh, Ron, a baby…"

Ron rolled his eyes at her . Now that she was letting him get a word in the conversation was about babies. Great, like he had lots to say on that topic. Maybe they should have invited his Mum along after all.

"I hope they'll let us mind the baby sometime. That'll be fun, won't it?" she said, ignoring his show of boredom.

"Yes, Hermione," he deadpanned. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Defeat You-Know-Who, then take you out for a romantic night of babysitting."

"Oh, are we being romantic now?" she asked, raising her eyebrows but with what he hoped was a hint of a laugh in her eyes.

Very funny, Hermione," he smirked. "We're certainly being more romantic than anyone else we know right now anyway," he said filling up her almost empty brandy glass.

"You don't have to get me drunk first, you know," she said, but she was still distracted and took another large swallow. She didn't stop brooding, facing him but staring at a point somewhere past him, her face troubled. It wasn't surprising what with the weight of the day, but he was disappointed anyway.

"Oh, it's not right, it's not right" she cried, striking her fist on her leg in frustration. "I always thought Lupin was decent and good and now he might leave his wife. He should be happy."

"Hermione, he wants her to be happy more. I figure he thinks that if he goes now she'll get over it and be better off in the long run." Ron's stomach dropped unexpectedly. Maybe he was drinking too quickly, he thought, and abruptly put his glass on the table, sloshing a little Firewhiskey onto his hand.

"But she loves him," Hermione said, somewhat urgently.

"She loves him now. How's she going to feel after years and years living the way he lives? Maybe she'll remember all the choices she didn't make because of him. Maybe she'll wish she could go back and do it differently." It was like his mouth was a runaway train, speeding towards a canyon a bridge used to span.

"Maybe she won't," Hermione answered him angrily, slamming her glass down on the table hard.

"You're right about one thing, Hermione. Tonks is pretty fantastic. She could have found someone far better than Lupin to marry. Maybe he just doesn't want to live the rest of his life waiting for her to tell him she's sorry she settled for someone like him."

"I can't believe you'd say that about Tonks." Hermione stood up, hands crossed against her stomach. "It would serve him right if she went off and left him, not that he's going to give her the chance. Harry was right, he is a coward."

"Oh, right, of course you'd agree with Harry," he practically snarled.

"What does Harry have to do with anything?" she hollered. "We're talking about Lupin and Tonks, in case you forgot."

"I know exactly what we're talking about, Hermione," he lied furiously. "We're talking about how you've always got your head in the bloody clouds. We're talking about how you think all you have to do is decide what's fair and that's how things should be. Like wanting things is enough to make it work."

Upstairs, a door slammed loudly. Hermione stamped her foot and shouted, "Shut up, Harry. You're not the only who's allowed to yell around here."

"Right," he called down apologetically. "Have at it, then."

They stared at each other, both of them breathing a little too fast. Ron couldn't remember if he'd been winning or losing, just that he was outraged with her for not understanding something. With that in mind, he said, "You don't get it, do you, Hermione?"

"What I get is that I've been wanting you to stop being a total idiot for years and yet you still are. You're the one with your head in the bloody clouds if you think that's fair." With that, she turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door for good measure.

Ron stared blindly after her for a minute trying to figure out what the hell they'd just said to each other. When it became clear that wasn't going to work he drained both glasses, stretched out on the couch and put a pillow over his face. One thing for sure, he was furious with that idiot Lupin.