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

A/N: Happy Saturday, all! Let's see what these angsty lovers are up to, shall we?

Thanks, as always, to the lovely accio-broom for beta-ing! Special shout-out also to romioneB, for being the best audience commentator/cheerleader for this chapter!

Please remember to be kind and constructive in the comments. Happy reading!

Ten Years

Chapter Three

I've watched those eyes light up with a smile

River in the not good times

Oh, you taught me all that I know (I know)

I've seen your soul grow just like a rose

Made it through all of those thorns

Girl into the woman I know

And it's killing me, me to say "I'm fine," "I'm fine"

When I really mean, mean to say...

You're my all and more

All I know you taught me

You're my all and more

But I need room to breathe

Breathe - Lauv

Ron

The months following Harry and Ginny's wedding were, simply put, hell.

Ron's relationship with Hermione was practically non-existent. They went six months without directly speaking to one another, a fact that made Ron feel sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it. He managed to wrangle out updates from Harry, who received occasional letters from her. But even Harry mentioned that she had been closed off with him and not as forthcoming in her letters.

The lack of communication seemed to be a recurring theme for Hermione.

Then came their disastrous encounter on New Year's Eve.

December 31st, 2000

Ron wanted to be anywhere but in a rowdy pub at that particular moment. On the one hand, he was elated to be saying goodbye to one of the best and worst years of his life. On the other hand, he knew it would be marking the end of a chapter, closing the book on a wish almost fulfilled and forcing a new reality to set in.

What he wasn't expecting was for the year to throw one last wrench into his New Year's plan.

Hermione was back from America. She was in the pub he happened to be standing in as well. His bloody tosser of a best friend neglected to share that bit of information with him.

It was like a gust of wind had knocked all of the remaining air out of his lungs. Ron inhaled sharply, drinking in the sight of her. The feeling was overwhelming — seeing her for the first time since they had…

Ron attempted to clear the large knot in his throat as he found his feet moving of their own volition towards Hermione's spot on the opposite side of the room. She locked eyes with him about halfway. Her lips parted, and she froze in her place, allowing Ron to close any remaining distance between them. The thunderous noise around them drifted away, both anticipating what was about to happen.

"Ron."

"Hermione."

"I uh — it's good to see you." The tone of her voice was less than convincing.

"Really?" He questioned back, dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes. Really."

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it."

Something unrecognizable flickered in her eyes as they narrowed. "I see you haven't changed a bit."

Ron crossed his arms, his eyes darkening. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Hermione refused to make eye contact with him; instead, she fixed her gaze on a nearby wall, effectively burning a hole through it with her eyes. "I thought the war would have made you see things differently — to mature a bit. I guess I was wrong."

Ron barked out a laugh. He wasn't surprised anymore. Hermione always did a damn good job of pushing him away, and every single fucking time, he fell right in her trap. The words that tumbled out next were proof of that.

"And I see that you're still the same judgmental pain-in-the-arse you've always been." There was no opportunity to take back the words that fell out of his mouth, but his blood was boiling so much that he couldn't care less. "Lovely chatting with you, Hermione. Give my best to your parents, would you?" With a final, mocking salute, he stalked off.

He hadn't heard from her since.

Their argument was petty and stupid, yet Ron couldn't bring it to himself to shove away his pride and apologize. Neither, he soon came to realize, could Hermione.

In the few months leading up to the third anniversary of the Battle, Harry started acting shifty and was almost definitely hiding something from him. Finally, fed up with his behavior, Ron had decided to confront his best friend, bracing himself for the answers that he knew he probably wouldn't like.

They were on lunch break at the Ministry when Ron concocted his plan. He thought it would be best to have the conversation in a public space so that Harry couldn't come up with a ridiculous excuse and make an escape. Although he knew that Harry always tried to be as honest as he could with him, he often shied away from talking about Hermione in front of Ron, in a way that was more than obvious as to what he was trying to do. It infuriated Ron to no end; Hermione was — once — his best friend, too.

Ron shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the weight of his question. "Er, how is Hermione doing?"

Harry paused mid-chew and nodded slowly. "She's good...good. Says she's still busy with her cases, of course. She's also traveled a bit around the States."

Ron eyed him closely. "Yeah, I know, you mentioned all of that last time."

Harry only shrugged dismissively and returned to his lunch.

Ron knew his best friend well enough to know when he wasn't being entirely truthful. There was a glint of apprehension in Harry's eyes whenever he brought up Hermione.

"Mate — what are you not telling me?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked through a full mouth.

Ron exhaled loudly and lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. "Don't fucking do that. If there's something else you know, just spit it out."

Harry remained skittish, and the unpredictability of what he was about to say next had Ron on edge. "Ron…"

"It's about Hermione, I presume?" Ron was losing patience quickly.

"You really don't-"

"She's...okay, right?" He had to ask. If there was one person who would tell him the honest-to-God truth, it was Harry — even if Ron had to threaten the use of Veritaserum.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. Seems...content."

"Content?" Ron attempted to decipher Harry's vague words with no such luck.

Harry squirmed, his fingers now tapping against the table in a rapid, noisy succession that only agitated Ron further. "Ron, I don't know if you really want me to…"

"What? Is she on a top-secret case at work? Dating someone?" He pressed on.

The look on Harry's face told Ron all he needed to know. She had started dating.

Despite already having guessed it, he still felt a punch to his gut. Ron had no right to be angry. Yet, his jaw set as he zeroed his gaze on his lunch tray, at a complete loss for words.

"I see."

Ron didn't even bother acknowledging the look of pity on Harry's face. "I'm sorry, mate. I didn't want you to...I mean, it all seems pretty new so far."

"Serious enough for her to tell you about it, though," Ron snapped back.

Harry was quiet for several moments. His voice was much softer the next time he spoke, "I still don't really understand what happened...you two looked so happy when…"

When they lost their virginities to each other? Yeah. He thought they were, too.

Ron finally lifted his head, his eyes tired. "I fucked it all up."

Hermione

She spent months trying to get over Ron Weasley.

Hermione did what she always did best, and that was to throw herself into work. She clocked up outrageously long hours, and sacrificed many opportunities for social interactions with her co-workers, to the point where she was no longer directly invited out for drinks afterwards or to the Ministry-wide holiday parties.

She was on track for a promotion in the department — her boss often came to her with the most challenging cases, knowing that Hermione wouldn't stop until she found a solution. Out of all of the files she defended so far, she had only lost two. Her track record was pristine.

Her love life? Not so pristine.

Hermione avoided asking about Ron in any of her letters to Harry. She couldn't even bring herself to write his name on a piece of parchment. When she lay awake in bed at night, her mind often replayed the events that occurred at Harry's wedding. It was as if Ron was there — his hands still scorching her skin, his soft lips pressed against hers, their sweaty bodies sticking sweetly together….

Those thoughts often resulted in her sobbing herself to sleep, aching for the one person she convinced herself that she couldn't have. The look on his face when she asked if he loved her...she was devastated. They had taken their relationship to a level that was impossible to come back from. And she had ruined it all by throwing out I love you.

Perhaps, she should've given him another chance to explain himself. It would be preposterous for her to think that Ron didn't care about her. That much she was sure of. What she wasn't certain of, were how deep his feelings extended.

Regardless, there would be no making a relationship work long-distance. Ron and Hermione weren't going to solve any issues they had over letters. She used the anniversary of the Battle as an excuse not to write to him — she would see him at the castle when she returned home for the ceremony. They would sort it all out there.

Except, Andrew Fischer walking into her life, completely derailing her plans.

Andrew worked as an Auror with MACUSA. He was a direct descendant of Wilhelm Fischer, one of the original twelve American Aurors tasked with leading the charge to overturn the many corrupt wizards that existed at the time. Therefore, Andrew was highly respected in his department but not just solely based on his lineage.

He was sweet, funny, and charming. He treated Hermione well.

They met by chance when they worked together on a law enforcement case. He appreciated her input and valued her position at the Ministry. Their relationship developed slowly. At first, they would stay later at the Ministry to discuss a specific case. Then, staying later often turned into ordering take away. Eventually, Andrew stopped looking for excuses to spend time with her on work-related business and instead confidently asked her out on a proper date.

Despite the nervousness, and with Ron still in the back of her mind, she accepted.

Hermione stressed to Andrew that she wanted to take it slow. After all, she didn't move to America to start a new relationship. In fact, she always anticipated, or rather hoped, that she would have one to come back home to.

Andrew understood, and respected, her boundaries. She felt safe with him. He never pressured her to be intimate with him, although she suspected that he would be if she indicated that she was ready. Still, she never let on that she was interested in taking that next step. Hermione tried to convince herself that it only had to do with wanting to take the relationship at a slow pace.

Due to Hermione's timid nature around him, Andrew appeared as shocked as anyone when she asked him to travel to England with her for the third anniversary of the Battle ceremony. Joyously, he accepted, eager to meet her friends and family back home. Andrew wasn't a daft man. Hermione knew that he was aware of the many parts of her life that she kept close to her heart. This was the opportunity, he was surely thinking — the opportunity for him to break through the walls that Hermione had so carefully built around herself.

May 2001

Hermione's body shuddered as she approached the entrance to the castle. She held Andrew's hand firmly in hers, and he gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knew about the Battle, of course, and took every opportunity he had to remind her of how courageous she was to fight. Hermione honestly hated whenever he praised her in that way — she didn't feel particularly brave as she stared up at the many towers that loomed overhead.

An unsettling emotion lodged into the pit of her stomach as they approached the large, oak double doors leading into the Entrance Hall. Many witches and wizards had already arrived, greeting each other as if no time had passed. A sea of familiar faces swarmed around her, and she was entirely too overwhelmed with the memories that flooded through her brain.

Hermione's eyes darted back and forth, hoping — yet, not hoping — to find a speck of auburn hair amongst them all.

This was a terrible idea, she concluded. She should have never come, and with Andrew of all people…

"Hermione!" A shriek echoed through the large corridor. She whipped her head around to find Ginny barreling towards her, Harry hot on her heels. It was her third friend, however, whose presence made her almost collapse to the floor instantly. Hermione locked eyes with Ron, who remained impassive but willing, as he followed Harry and Ginny through the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Andrew's voice deeply rumbled by her ear. She then registered that she was gripping his hand so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

"Sorry," she murmured sheepishly, forcing a smile on her face as her friends drew near.

Ginny found Hermione first, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly, effectively ripping her hand out of Andrew's grasp. Next up was Harry, who whispered the words in her ear that almost made her burst into tears right then and there: "Hiya, stranger."

When Harry released her, Hermione's gaze travelled over to the man she had been most anxious to come in contact with. Prior to arriving, she didn't know which would be worse — greeting Ron publicly, or finding herself alone with him. Both, she concluded, were destined to be equally awkward.

She was right.

Hermione had trouble focusing on anything in the room apart from the specific ginger standing across from her. Harry and Ginny made pleasantries with Andrew. Ron, however, wasn't sizing up Andrew like she expected him to. In fact, he didn't look all that surprised to see her, much less see her with another man on her arm. Harry glanced her way apologetically, confirming her suspicions.

"Andrew, this is...uh…"

Ron stuck his hand out politely. "Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Oh? Another friend from Hogwarts?" Hermione prayed that Andrew didn't catch on to the obvious tension within their small circle at that moment. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Yeah, you could say that," Ron answered but kept his firm, blank stare on Hermione. She couldn't bring herself to look away. Fortunately, he broke the gaze first, offering Andrew a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Anyway, good to meet you. I've got to go check on something, excuse me."

Ron shuffled back into the throng of people without another word, submerging the remaining group into a squirm-filled silence.

"Hermione," Ginny finally interjected, "You both will come and sit with us during dinner, right?"

"Of course," Hermione mumbled back distractedly. It was getting harder and harder for her to conceal how much she wanted to disapparate right then and there. Harry reached out to pat her shoulder in a show of comfort.

"We'll see you both inside the Great Hall."

Harry and Ginny had barely walked a few meters away before a question popped up in Hermione's mind that she desperately needed to have answered.

"Andrew, I'll be right back. Just need to speak to Harry about something real quick." With a kiss on his cheek, she left her boyfriend standing there, looking thoroughly confused by her odd, squirly behavior.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed as she chased after her friend. He turned around slowly, annoying Hermione with the expression of remorse that crossed his face.

"So, you told him."

Harry sighed heavily and took a timid step forward. "No...he guessed."

Hermione felt her throat close up. She attempted to blink back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Damn it, why was she so emotional all the time? "Right."

The discomfort on Harry's face only worsened. "Hermione…"

"I'm fine, really! I think I just need some air." She fumbled backwards, almost tripping and colliding with several bodies around her, before hurriedly making her way out of the entry hall as quickly as possible.

She needed room to breathe.

Ron

He had to get out of there in order to breathe again.

The bloke just had to be a handsome son-of-a-bitch, didn't he?

Ron couldn't get the image of Andrew out of his head — brilliantly dressed, he was, with his pearly white teeth shining towards Hermione. Of course, he also happened to be perfectly friendly — bloody tosspot.

"Firewhiskey, Ron? Really?" Harry lectured as he came to stand next to Ron, who held an open flask in his hand.

"What? It's not like I go to this bloody school anymore. What's McGonagall gonna do, take away my prefect badge? Give me detention?" He snickered.

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Trust me, mate. You don't want her wrath on your shoulders…" Harry paused, then added as an afterthought, "Hermione's either."

"Sod off," he sneered, taking another swig. Fuck him for bringing up the sole reason why he was drinking that night.

"Oh, fucking hell," Ron grumbled, eyes shifting towards his feet as Andrew headed their way.

"Hello, again," Andrew greeted the two warmly. Ron didn't think he imagined how Andrew's eyes lingered on Ron for a bit longer than Harry. "I was wondering if any of you knew where Hermione was? She seems to have disappeared on me." He gave a slight, uncomfortable chuckle.

Library. If Hermione couldn't be found at Hogwarts, Ron was almost certain that was where she was. He glanced quickly over at Harry, who nodded in understanding.

"I wonder if she's gotten lost in the library again," Harry grinned. "Honestly surprised it took her this long."

"Oh, well…" Andrew gave a slight chuckle, "She always does like to read, I suppose."

He supposes? What a wanker.

"Ron can go find her. Right, Ron? After all, you know where the library is." When did his sister show up? There was a mischievous glint in Ginny's eyes that he didn't miss. Neither, Ron realized, did Andrew. One look over at the bloke revealed his less-than-pleased expression.

Ron decided that he just didn't care.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go," he murmured, spinning on his heel without allowing Andrew the opportunity for a rebuttal.

As Ron walked down the empty corridors, he found himself reminiscing the moments he spent with Hermione during prefect rounds — with him joking around and her chastising him for not taking the responsibility seriously. Damn it, he missed the way she constantly nagged him.

The doors to the library were closed when he arrived at the entrance, but he didn't let that deter him from going in. He was very familiar with Hermione secluding herself from the rest of the world.

Especially over the past few years.

He spotted her right away, huddled over a book in the far corner of the room. As soon as the doors shut behind him, her head snapped up, mouth falling open as she took in the sight of him.

Neither spoke for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, Ron cleared his throat, not able to stand the suffocating atmosphere any longer. "I was told to come and get you...the ceremony will be starting soon." His voice cracked in an odd way that made the tips of his ears turn red.

Hermione's face fell slightly. "Oh. Right. I uh — I'll just be a minute." She shifted her gaze back down to her book — a part of him wondered if she was actually processing the words on the page.

Was she really going to go back to acting like he wasn't fucking there?

Ron almost turned and walked straight out of the library. Yet, a nagging feeling pressed him on, and he decided he couldn't leave the words he had hanging in the thick air. "So Andrew...he's an Auror, huh?"

Hermione's breath hitched from across the way, and he visibly saw her body tense up.

"Yes." Her voice was barely audible.

"Fascinating…" He remarked condescendingly.

Her jaw twitched, but she kept her head held high, instead choosing to close her book firmly. When Hermione stood, she faced him squarely and crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry."

Ron cocked his head to the side, waiting for a follow-up.

Her chocolate brown eyes locked on his ocean blue, an intense emotion hidden behind them that Ron couldn't quite place. "I should've never said what I did that night."

He knew exactly what night she was referring to. More to the point, her apology only made him feel ten times worse. It was clear that she regretted it all.

"Ron, I-"

"What?" He snapped. His voice was harsh, so sharp that he could've sliced her open with a double-edged sword.

Hermione's bottom lip quivered, and she forcefully dropped her gaze to the floor. Ron silently swore to himself — she had lost all confidence to continue in one fell swoop because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

She turned away, and swiftly made her way behind a row of books.

Fuck. He wasn't going to watch her cry.

Ron slowly crept closer to her, the sound of her soft whimpers growing louder the closer he got. He winced, his stomach churning painfully.

When he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks, his heart shattering into a million pieces. A ton of bricks would've collapsed onto his body, and he wasn't sure he would feel anything compared to the excruciating pain he felt every time he brought her to tears.

If he wasn't sure before that he was 100% in love with the most infuriating witch on the planet, he was now. The realization did nothing to alleviate even an ounce of the pain.

Ron had to be closer to her. He had to be close enough so that he could get a whiff of her perfume and lightly touch her arm — to feel that she was still real, that she was here, and wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

Hermione's nose was buried in a stack of dusty books, her elbows perched up against the shelf. She didn't make any move that indicated she heard him walking toward her.

That was until he hesitantly reached out to curl his fingers around her wrist gently. Her body flinched from the feel of his cool hand, and her breath started to come out in short, choked sputters.

"Shhh…" The soft curls of her hair tickled his nose as he leaned forward into the space just behind her earlobe. His other hand came to rest on her opposite arm, slowly rubbing up and down soothingly. Her exposed, bare skin was so damn smooth.

Hermione sighed out and let her head fall back until it collided softly with his chest. His fingers trailed lower until they brushed the tips of her own, dangerously close to her thighs that were only covered by the hem of her dress. Ron heard Hermione suck in a breath — her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly. He threaded their fingers together in a natural progression, and his lips had just made contact with her temple when she pulled away from him roughly.

Hermione's body flew back until she hit the shelf on the farthest wall with a resounding bang. "God, Ron. What were you thinking? What the hell was that?"

His heart was hammering rapidly, still trying to break through the spell he was put under from having Hermione in his arms again.

"Hermione…" He rasped, "I...we almost…"

"We didn't."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. Her reaction, the way her body immediately melded into his own — that meant something, and he was determined not to let her just brush it underneath the rug again.

"He's not satisfying you…" Ron took a step closer.

Her eyes darkened immediately, and he knew they had approached a territory where all bets were off. She was poised for a blazing row, and he was ready to take the blows she had prepped for him. "What-what makes you say that?"

"Why else would your body have reacted like that? The hairs prickling up on the back of your neck, your fingers just itching to touch me, too."

"Don't."

"Don't, what? Talk as if we've shagged before? Like I know how every curve of your body feels when it's pressed up against-"

"I said DON'T!"

The anger Ron had bubbling inside exploded, evidenced by his beet-red face and the veins from his neck popping out. "You know what I do want to talk about? How you just upped and left me like a bloody fuck that meant nothing! Then, you have the audacity to shove this new bloke in my face."

Hermione growled and marched around the table. "That's not fair...I was ready for you last year! I was ready, and you weren't — so whose fault is that? Did you expect me just to wait idly by for you to make up your mind?"

"You waited for two fucking seconds, not even bothering to give me a chance to make it right!" Ron angrily punched a stack of books off from a nearby shelf, causing Hermione to jump. "If you had stayed, if you had listened, I would've told you…" Ron caught himself. It's not the right timing. At least, that's what he convinced himself in his mind.

"Told me what?" Always persistent, she was.

"It doesn't matter now."

Hermione's nose flared up, and she shook her head rapidly. "Don't say that."

Ron let out a bitter laugh. "It's not like we don't have practice not saying all the things we should've been saying in the first place. Why should this be any different?"

He noticed her flinch slightly, but she recovered quickly, lifting her chin in clear defiance. "Okay, then. You want me to tell you what I wanted?"

"That would be my preference. Enough with the bullshit."

There was no way that he could've prepared himself for the words that came next.

"I wanted you to come after me."

A single, pain-stricken moment passed.

Hermione continued on, her watery eyes boring into his. "You've fought against the darkest wizards of our time...but...you didn't fight for me."

A deep ache filled his bones. Finally. Finally, he knew what Hermione was expecting all along. And he had failed to see it — failed her — in every regard. "Hermione…"

The hurt behind her eyes morphed away into something resembling anger. "I make no apologies for how I chose to move on."

Ron swallowed. Hard. "Are you-are you happy?"

Hermione scoffed. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer it. Please," he tiredly begged.

"Yeah...I suppose I am." How awful of a person did it make him if he secretly wished she wasn't? That there wasn't any possible way that she could've been happy without him.

Ron's feet were propelling him forward before he could even process it. Hermione gasped as he cupped her cheek with his hand. Their noses touched lightly, and Hermione could feel Ron's breath hot on her face. He just needed to feel her one more time.

"I can't…" Her strained whispered breath just mere centimeters from his lips.

"I know." Ron released her in the next instant, walking backwards slowly. Just before he turned around to exit, he lifted his gaze to meet her sad eyes one last time.

"I wish I would've known you wanted me to…"

I would have followed you anywhere.