Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: Hello, friends! Happy Friday. I am really excited to share this story with you - but, a few notes first. This is a "what-if" style fic. In this scenario, Ron and Hermione did not kiss during the Battle of Hogwarts. While it's hard for me to imagine a universe in which Romione didn't manage to figure their crap out immediately following the battle, if I were going to, this is what popped into my head.

It will be an angsty ride on their way to happiness, but I hope you'll stick with me! Please remember to be kind and constructive in the comments :)

This fic is rated M due to mature themes, language, and sexual content.

Major thanks to accio-broom for beta-ing and putting up with the angst!

Cheers!

Ten Years

I think you should know

You don't have to stay

Even if you go, I'll be okay

We can take it slow

'Til there's nothing left to say

Even if you go

We'll find our way

Find Our Way - Midnight Kids

Chapter One

Flashback to May 1998

Hermione

If she closed her eyes, Hermione could still hear the screams and see the terror displayed on the faces of those around her in the midst of the battle. A ripple of pain shot through her, and she bit down on her lip to keep from shouting out. There were more than just physical scars plaguing her body.

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that she had survived the fight when others weren't as fortunate. She could find a way to conceal her family from harm when others didn't have the luxury. She wanted to pinch herself. Here she was feeling sorry for herself, when her best friend, the man she…her heart lodged in her throat. She couldn't go there at the moment. Not now. Not when he was currently dealing with the pain of losing someone he held dear. Someone that, because of this stupid, frustrating war, he wasn't even able to see at all over the last year. The year that would unknowingly be the final year of Fred's life.

She blinked back the tears and willed the composure to return to her body. The sadness she felt for the Weasley family was shattering. Overwhelming. She considered them to be a second family to her. Despite the closeness she felt to the particular set of gingers, she still perceived herself as an outsider at this point, and the moment the family currently shared, huddled together, seemed too private to interrupt.

She sensed a need to drown out reality as much as she could. Her feet were blindly moving in front of her in the Great Hall, somehow managing to navigate around every shard of glass or concrete rubble that could have sent her body tumbling to the ground. Her mind was reeling yet blank at the same time — she was on a path with no destination.

Her internal battle waged on until she was engulfed into a tight embrace. It was Seamus, who appeared to be in relatively good spirits despite all of the evidence of death and destruction that currently surrounded them.

"Hermione, bloody brilliant you are. I'm so glad you are okay!" He murmured into her ear. She squeezed him back weakly.

"Thanks, Seamus. Same to you," she offered him a curt smile, and he nodded once before running after Hagrid, who just breezed by them.

Hermione's eyes landed on a cluster of rocks scattered about on the floor. There were traces of blood that lined the outer surface of the cobblestone, and the lump in her throat grew in size. She was positive that she would be sick. Her forehead felt clammy, and the sounds of people murmuring around her seemed to be so far off into the distance. Her eyes shifted blearily around the room, desperately searching for something, anything that her eyes could land on that would be comforting enough to steady her breathing.

There he was. It was Ron's eyes she found staring back at her first. He looked beyond exhausted, his morose expression shifting into a mixture of concern as soon as he spotted her pale features. He stumbled quickly away from his family, dodging barrier obstacles and rubble piles on the floor until his feet landed him directly in front of Hermione.

"Hey…" He hoarsely whispered. His voice was deep, scratchy — much like the stubble on his chin that served as evidence for how long it had been since he last shaved. The light in his eyes — that Hermione was so accustomed to seeing — was gone, replaced by a shade of darkness that mirrored many others in the room.

His hand closed over her wrist lightly, and she was certain she was no longer breathing. It was surely meant to be a comforting gesture as his eyes flickered over her body with concern showing in them. For Hermione, it was a move that left her blind with the desire to curl her hands around his neck and crash her lips onto his.

For once in her life, she wished she had the guts, the courage to take the next step. She was tortured between her head and her heart. Her head told her that she needed to let it go and quell the emotions she held inside. Now wasn't the time. Her heart...oh how her heart ached for him, to run straight into the warmth of his arms and never let go.

"Hermione…" His soft voice purred once more.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Ron," she blinked rapidly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She truly was sorry. He held her gaze intensely, in a way that assured her that he understood.

He scratched the back of his neck and nodded. "Yeah, well, just making sure you're alright."

"I'm fine." She did her best to convince him that was the truth. The selfish part in her silently begged him to see right through her. But, she had failed to outwardly appear as such, or Ron had been unable to notice. Either way, he gave her one last soft smile before releasing her hand and returning to his family across the room.

That was the start of many moments that Hermione wished she could change over the next ten years to come.

Ron

There was someone missing.

Hermione. Ron's eyes searched and searched through the crowd for his best friend in question. She looked very pretty today — she had parted her hair to the side, which allowed her curls to tumble over one of her shoulders. She wore a black dress she borrowed from Ginny that was sophisticated and classy. After a year on the run, he was accustomed to seeing Hermione in tattered, worn jeans and a frayed jumper. Seeing her today only proved that she was beautiful in anything — any day of the year.

That witch was bloody frustrating to figure out as of late. She was quiet and reserved, very uncharacteristic of the Hermione he knew. They all had grown up, he surmised, forced to deal with the trauma of the war surrounding them, at an age where their biggest worry should've been studying for their NEWTs or navigating romantic relationships.

Hermione.

She stayed close by his side the entire day. He wasn't quite sure what to make of all of the soft, encouraging smiles and light touches on his shoulder. She even held his hand through the service, and he was sure that he squeezed it back so tight that her knuckles went white.

But, then, the grounds of the Burrow turned into a festive commemoration, just as Fred would've wanted it. Drinks were passed around, countless amounts of stories shared, and Ron had been pleased to see even George with the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

The one thing out of place was the lack of Hermione, who had all but seemingly disappeared from the observance.

The first place he checked was the house, thinking she might have gone inside to warm up as the chilly night air started to set in. Disgruntled not to find her there, he stepped back out into the garden, scanning his eyes past the many guests scattered about, wondering if he might have just missed her before.

She wasn't there. Ron was growing increasingly concerned regarding her whereabouts and set off in a different direction, deciding to venture to the outskirts of the boundary encased within the protective enchantments. Surely she wouldn't go any further, would she?

He reached a collective group of lush, green trees that towered in height over Ron's already lengthy form. Pausing, he held his breath, listening for any signs that would indicate a human presence.

The sudden rustling of what sounded like tree leaves caused Ron to instinctively tug on the wand he'd securely placed in the back pocket of his trousers. Glancing up slowly, he was startled to find Hermione. She was positioned several feet up off the ground, legs dangling precariously off a large tree branch.

Ron relaxed the grip on his wand and laughed at the sight he thought he would never see, considering the extent that Hermione panicked when she was even the slightest bit up off the ground on her broom. "What're you doing up there?"

"Oh, just...hanging around," she attempted a weak joke with a sly smile. Ron guffawed at her adorableness.

"Good one. Er, may I?" Ron motioned up towards the tree, and she nodded while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He climbed the tree in two swift strides, shaking the leaves a bit as he settled on the branch parallel to hers. Hermione peered over the bark to beam at Ron, which he reciprocated kindly.

He gasped aloud as he took in the sights, fully comprehending why she must have been hiding up here. It provided the perfect vantage point to view all of the chaos and action down below. They watched together in silence as guests moved about the grass — dancing, hollering, and sloshing back pints.

"How'd you find this spot?"

"I used to come read out here when I visited the Burrow."

"Huh...yeah, I guess I knew that. When Harry and I would usually be off on a fly. Don't recall ever seeing you climb a tree before, though."

"This was the first time."

Ron sent her a smirk. "Feeling daring, ay, Granger?"

Part of him wished he felt daring. Daring enough to...

"I think...I'm going to go to Australia. Tomorrow."

Her words broke him from his stupor, and he was forced back to reality. A reality in which he just didn't quite know where they stood. It made sense that she'd want to set off to find her parents as quickly as possible. It just didn't hit him that she would be leaving as soon as tomorrow. The sudden thought of parting with her and not seeing her every day made him panic.

"I'll go with you…"

"No," Hermione interrupted quickly. Ron's face immediately spread into an expression of hurt. She offered him a timid smile. "Ron, I-thank you. Thank you for that. You don't know how much that means to me, truly."

"Then why won't you let me come with you?"

She gazed off into the open clearing, avoiding Ron's eyes. "I think...after everything that just happened...I just need to take some space, clear my head."

Ron didn't quite understand what she meant by space, and that part frustrated him to no end. "Take some space from me?"

Hermione blew out a frustrated breath. "No, not from you specifically — just from everything. We've been go go go for so long...I just need some time to figure out...what's next now? And," she paused to lean her head against the bark, looking forlorn over at him. "You and Harry have some amazing opportunities to think about too, yeah? The Auror program, for starters?"

Ron looked down at his lap, his thoughts drifting back to the dual offers he had received from Kingsley and Professor McGonagall the day before. It was his dream to become an Auror, so it had been impossible to hide the excitement from the offer, and Hermione had clearly sensed his less enthusiastic response to the offer of finishing his studies at Hogwarts.

"Yeah...yeah, I s'pose." They remained silent for several minutes, observing their friends and family down below. "You'll come back, though? After you find 'em?"

Hermione gulped, and Ron felt put off that she almost seemed to force a smile on her face. "Yes...of course. I'll always come back. I promise."

Nevertheless, Ron nodded. "Well, sorted. We'll talk when you get back, then."

"About...what?" Her voice dropped to a low whisper.

Ron kinked an eyebrow in surprise. What was she fishing for? "Well, I dunno...about anything, I guess! I'll wanna hear all about your trip, of course."

"Of course," she murmured back in agreement. "Cause we're friends."

Catch up just like old friends. The words stung, even though they were true.

He smiled again, looking at her oddly. "The best of friends."

But, Hermione didn't come back. She spent the entire summer in Australia with her parents, only to finally return to London to catch the Hogwarts Express back for her seventh and final year.

When he showed up at the station to see her and Ginny off, he was more than disappointed to find out that Hermione had already boarded the train, eager to start her Head Girl duties.

It was the first of many instances in which Ron regretted that he didn't have the fucking guts to say something sooner. Anything.

October 1998

Hermione

It was a brisk autumn day as she sat along the shore of the Great Lake. She found it refreshing to watch as the gentle waves rippled like a current along the icy blue surface — there was a light breeze in the air that made Hermione burrow even further into the warm, thick jacket that covered her signature grey v-neck jumper.

Hermione kept herself busy over the past few months. Finding her parents again left her emotional, to say the least. She exchanged very few letters with Ron and Harry over the summer, instead choosing to focus on making up lost time with her family; time that she never guaranteed that she would get to have again until the moment the war was declared finished.

But, her parents weren't her only family. Looking back on the entire summer, she couldn't help but feel regretful over not choosing to keep up as well as she could have with her best friends. None of that she realized, of course, until she arrived at Hogwarts without them.

At first, she felt out of place. How would she make sense of an entire year at school where Ron and Harry weren't there to join her? There were no more late-night trips to the library to scour through piles and piles of information regarding the latest task they had been given — or rather, had taken up themselves. Ron wasn't there to remind her to take breaks from studying every so often, and continuously pester her until she did. She missed watching Harry brood by his favorite fireplace in the common room. Sure, there were still Quidditch matches, but they weren't the same without trying to find Ron or Harry up in the clouds.

Ginny spoke of them often, and Hermione lived vicariously through the updates she gave her. While Harry sent her thoughtful letters about once a week, she was displeased to discover that Ron was much less consistent or frequent with his responses, and they usually consisted of single sentence answers.

Hermione, congratulations on making Head Girl, I'm not surprised.

Hermione, training is still going well, hope school is the same.

Hermione, good luck on your first set of exams.

School was her happy medium. She knew what to expect out of her classes. She was good, no, exceptional at it. It wasn't easy, but it also wasn't overly complicated. She was thriving.

But Ron Weasley? She thought almost every night about their time spent up in the tree at the Burrow the day before she left for Australia. How much she wanted to say to him, but couldn't find the words. How, despite every single moment between them that led her to believe that something more could be on the horizon, they were still in a state of limbo. Now, it just felt like they were worlds apart — train tracks heading in separate directions. Off-kiltered.

"You know you're a right tough witch to track down, yeah?"

Hermione froze, nearly dropping her quill in the process. It was a voice she hadn't heard in so long; one that made her heart skip a beat.

She slowly turned, finding Ron, standing so tall, shoulder resting against the bark of a nearby tree. He was...so handsome. She took special note of the scruffy, ginger hairs that remained stubbled along his chin.

"Ron...you're here. How?" Her voice was raw and scratchy.

His face was unreadable. Taking a step forward, he started, "Well, after you returned from Australia without a bloody word, and I missed seeing you off at the station at the start of term, I figured that it would be up to me to check-in."

If his tone was any indication, he was angry. Rightfully so, Hermione admitted. It wasn't her wisest decision — choosing to avoid him instead of throwing herself into his arms like she so desperately wanted.

"But, you-"

"Relax, I received permission from Professor McGonagall to be on school grounds." It was unnerving how he managed to read her mind so effortlessly.

Hermione slowly stood up, her hands finding her pockets as she shivered from the breeze that drifted through the air. The sun was starting to set around them, and it almost seemed ironic that a chilly night was up ahead, much like the chilly conversation that was about to take place.

She didn't know what to say, so she bowed her head.

Ron laughed bitterly. "I almost begged for Harry to give me the Marauder's map so that I could make sure your dot was actually at Hogwarts. It's not like I would've known otherwise. I haven't gotten a scrap of news from you since the summer, have I?"

"That's not true!" She weakly defended herself. "I've told you all about how school is going…"

"Yeah. School. Not about you, Hermione. You don't think I've seen the letters that you've sent Harry? I would've never known that you had fallen ill at the start of term if it weren't for him!"

Hermione winced. She really wished that Harry hadn't shared that personal information with Ron, but she couldn't be all that surprised. "I didn't want you to worry."

"And you didn't mind worrying Harry?" Truthfully? Yes. "That's not why, and you know it."

They stood in a tense silence for a minute, the air thick and heavy, even though they weren't in a restraining space. There were so many words vibrating on the tip of her tongue that she just couldn't get out. She was terrified, absolutely terrified, thinking that all this time she had been hoping he might just possibly...

"What did I do? Why are you avoiding me?"

"I just…" Never in her life had she been so tongue-tied. "I just feel...different...when I'm around you, and I don't know how to explain it."

Ron's head straightened. "Try. Please."

"I can't have the same relationship with you as I do with Harry…" Hermione watched as Ron's eyes darkened, and she quickly sputtered out her next phrase, realizing how her words could have been interpreted, "I just...I want to…"

Ron stepped forward. "You want to what?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times before switching topics. "We're friends, right?"

"Are you mad?" Ron responded almost immediately. "How is that even a question?"

"I know, I know," Hermione groaned, burying her face into her hands. "I'm buggering this all up. I'm sorry."

"Hermione…" Ron's voice was soft, gentle, and the stark contrast from his previous tone had her lifting her head again to meet his curious eyes. "It's just me. Please."

Hermione laughed shortly, nodding off towards the lake. "That's the thing, though, isn't it? You're not just you to me." It was probably the most honest statement she had made out loud to him in months.

She watched closely as Ron's lips parted, eyes boring into hers. "I don't have-"

"Hey, you two!"

Both pairs of eyes darted away to view Harry and Ginny strolling hand in hand down the grass toward them.

He didn't have what? Hermione vigorously racked her brain for any possible explanation for what he was about to say next. Her heart dropped low in her stomach, noticing that Ron was already chatting amicably with Ginny, knowing that the moment was lost.

Ron

Ron,

I hate how we left things when you came to Hogwarts. Regardless of how it may seem from over the years, I don't actually enjoy rowing with you. I just want to know that we are okay.

We are okay, right?

Please send my love to your family. I do hope to be able to see you for the winter holiday. It will be coming around sooner than we know it.

All my love,

Hermione

Ron drafted several notes back to Hermione, all of which got crumpled up and levitated straight into the garbage can.

Hermione, of course, I'm mad at you. You're barking, absolutely mental, and I'm certain there is something you're not telling me.

Hermione, I just want to understand why you didn't wait to say goodbye at the train.

Instead, he remembered the words she wrote to him. I don't actually enjoy rowing with you.

Hermione,

It's okay. We're okay. Study hard and don't forget to take breaks when you need to.

I look forward to seeing you when you come home.

The family sends their love back. Give Ginny a hug for me.

Ron

June 1999

Ron

He bounced eagerly on his toes, surveying the heads of students as they emerged from the train, searching for one person and one person only.

Ron and Hermione's relationship drastically improved over the recent months. They sent several letters back and forth each week, and Hermione became much more forthcoming about details of her life at Hogwarts. She spoke frequently about how her classes were going, her favorite activities to partake in over the weekends (aside from several trips to the library, of course), and about her parents' life in Australia.

None of those letters went into further discussion about their conversation by the lake, but Ron brushed it under the rug, content with just being on good terms again and not quite willing yet to rock the boat. They had spent way too much damn time on murky waters — he just wanted to live in bloody peace for a bit.

He had seen Hermione twice since his visit to Hogwarts; once around New Year's, where they spent a joyous evening playing exploding snap with several of their previous Hogwarts classmates. The second visit occurred during a Hogsmeade trip in February, and they scoured the shops together to pass the time while giving Harry and Ginny their space to have some "privacy", much to Ron's disgruntlement.

For Ron, he felt as if they were finally back on track — their trains now moving towards a similar destination.

He remembered how giddy Hermione was in her latest letter about the opportunity, as part of the graduating class, to travel to the station via the enchanted Hogwarts boats, symbolic of how they were first transported to the castle at the start of their first year. He wished he could see her face as she, likely wistfully, made that final journey from the castle they had both spent so many years residing in — to have seen the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes.

A lump of emotion lodged in his throat. How it seemed so long ago, yet not that long, since they embarked on a seven-year journey that altered the course of their lives.

How fitting it was then, at that exact moment, he saw her emerge from the train. His stomach lurched in a funny way. Although they had been reunited several times before over the past year, this reunion hit differently. They would finally be in the same place again, at the same time, with so many opportunities hanging in the air. Ron caught her eyes, and watched in satisfaction as the corners of her mouth lifted into a wide smile. Much to his surprise, and pleasure, she pushed her way through the crowd and ran straight into his arms.

The initial shock of her very public display of affection wore off quickly, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her close. Without a second thought, he lifted her feet up off the ground and twirled her around in a circle. Hermione squealed with delight by Ron's enthusiastic greeting, garnering the attention of several others around them.

Ron planted her feet back on the ground, breathless. "You're absolutely brilliant, you know that, right?!"

She turned scarlet from his words but didn't loosen her grip around his shoulders. At the same time, they both seem to realize how close in proximity they were standing with each other and darted apart.

"Er...do you have your things?" Ron stammered out, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione gestured her head backwards, and he followed her path to grab her forgotten belongings on the other end of the train.

"Here, let me take the trolley." Ron took hold of the cart without waiting for her answer and started strolling it along the platform, towards the exit where their families waited.

He made a mental note to ask her about her job hunt, already knowing that she had several offers on the table. But first, he had an important question to ask her, one that he needed to get out before he lost the nerve. "Listen, I've been thinking — well, Harry and I have been thinking — we want you to come live with us at Grimmauld Place. There are plenty of rooms and-"

Ron paused on his tangent, suddenly aware that Hermione was no longer walking beside him. He glanced back to find her frozen in her spot, as if someone cast a sticking charm on her feet.

Wearily, she finally met his eyes. The guilt that betrayed her irises made Ron's stomach drop. "I can't, Ron. I was offered a job with MACUSA — in their Magical Law Enforcement department. I think - I think I'm going to take it."

Well, there's one less question he had to ask. His mind was fuzzy with the swarm of questions running through it. "MACUSA? You don't mean the American Ministry of Magic, do you?"

Hermione nodded curtly. "Yes, in New York City."

Ron sagged back against the trolley, his hands still gripping onto the handle. His legs were heavy, almost as if he could have crashed to the ground if it weren't for the steady contraption behind him. Every shred of optimism he had for their immediate futures collapsed in an instant.

Hermione attempted to fill the awkward silence. "I think it'll be an excellent opportunity to expand outside of my comfort zone and-"

"Yeah? An entire year on the run didn't make you uncomfortable enough, did it?" His words were harsh, perhaps harsher than they should have been, but he couldn't control the hurt that bubbled inside of him any longer.

Hermione flinched, obviously disappointed by his reaction.

He was disappointed, too.

"Come on," he gruffly muttered, "We've got family waiting." Ron pivoted on his heel without another word.

Later that evening, they found themselves in the garden of the Burrow, in the midst of a surprise party thrown in honor of Hermione and Ginny.

Ron hadn't uttered a word to Hermione since their conversation on the platform, and every time he snuck a glance over at her, she was noticeably avoiding eye contact with him.

He sighed, taking a large swig of the butterbeer in his hands. A commotion startled him from his thoughts, only to find his best mate down on one knee, and his sister with her hands clasped over her mouth. He was far enough away to only see Harry's lips moving without any sound, although he figured that Harry was likely keeping his voice low purposefully.

There were two moments that directly followed of worthy significance. The first included his sister, as he observed her nodding her head profusely, a gesture that implied an exuberant yes to Harry's question. The second involved the person standing directly behind Ginny, who he was only able to see once his sister moved to embrace her future husband.

Hermione stood across the way, and he was startled to find that she was already staring back at him. There was a sadness that clouded her features, despite the happiness they should be feeling for their mutual friends.

A short time later, after giving out many congratulatory hugs, Ron migrated his way to stand next to Hermione, intentionally brushing his shoulder against hers. He heard her audibly suck in a breath as he drew closer.

"At least they're happy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her bite her lip in fierce contemplation. After several long seconds, she turned to him. "Ron...I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to just blurt the news out like that."

He squinted his eyes towards the setting sun. "I'm sorry, too."

There was a finality in his tone that sent Hermione a clear message that the conversation was over for now.

"Well, anyway, my portkey leaves at ten sharp on Monday morning." Monday. Only a week from now. "I would - I would really like to see you to say goodbye-"

"Hermione, darling!" Her parents were waving over at them, ready to depart for the evening.

"Coming, mum," she called back, her voice breaking. Hermione faced Ron, and he waited with bated breath as her mouth opened, poised to say something. He would've taken anything at that moment. Instead, she simply crossed her arms and trudged through the grass.

Away from him.

Hermione

The ministry felt cold that day. Hermione shivered in a small dark room, her eyes studying an old, rusted goblet that had been transformed into a portkey for her travels. In just a matter of minutes, the inanimate object would transport her to another country — far away from everything she had ever known.

A part of her, riddled with anxiety, considered the impossibility of her choice. How could she leave it all behind? Leave everyone she loved behind? Was she absolutely sure she was making the right choice?

Ron was the only person she invited to see her off. She had already said her goodbyes to her parents, and Harry and Ginny, the day prior.

"Ron will reach out," Harry had told her. "Just give him time."

She inhaled through her nose, closing her eyes, trying to picture Ron's face as she stepped off of the train last week. So hopeful, and so full of light.

The door to the dimly lit room burst open, and Ron stumbled through, panting heavily. Hermione's eyes shot open, darting towards the man she had craved to see.

"I thought I was...going to...miss you," he managed out in between breaths.

Hermione sniffled. "I'm glad you didn't." She added a clearer line, "I'm glad you're here."

The portkey glowed, and Hermione glanced apprehensively towards the goblet. Not yet. She turned back to Ron one last time, her eyes now watering. "Well, I suppose…"

Ron didn't let her finish before he pulled Hermione into a crushing hug. Her arms folded instinctively around his middle, and she snuggled her head into his chest. She inhaled his scent, determined to hold onto this moment for as long as she could.

"Don't wait so bloody long to write me this time, yeah?" He whispered into her hair.

She let out a short sob. "I won't."

"You won't wait so long, or you won't write to me?

Hermione lifted her head, determined to meet his eyes. "I will write to you, Ron."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Her heart skipped a beat as his lips gently grazed her forehead.

It was the briefest of moments, so much so that Hermione thought she would have imagined it.

With a jerk of his head and a knowing smile, Ron uttered his final words, "Go. Be brilliant."