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

A/N: Happy Wednesday all! Only two more chapters left after this one - hang in there! :)

As always, thank you to accio-broom for her beta-brilliance. This story wouldn't be what it is without her support. ALSO - go check out her work, because it is FABULOUS.

Ten Years

Chapter Eight

It was just another night at your place

Didn't wanna go back to mine but it was late

Talked about all the things we love and hate

And I love the way you touched me on the sofa

Last time that I saw you, couldn't let me go

Told me that you liked how we were gettin' close

And I was gettin' used to not being alone

Not sure what happened yet, 'cause

I didn't know that when I said goodbye

I would be sayin' it for the last time

I might've stayed a little longer that night

If I would've known it was the last time

I'd look into your eyes

I'd say what's on my mind

If I had the chance to do it again

I'd kiss you one more time

I might've stayed a little longer that night

If I would've known it was the last time

Last Time - Midnight Kids

Hermione

Most of the following year went by without a hitch. Ron and Hermione settled into a routine together at the Ministry in their respective departments, occasionally overlapping cases and missions. Hermione met up with Ron and Harry every Wednesday for lunch, and they almost always ended up at a local pub on Friday evenings. The trio spent a lot of time together, and it was just like their days back at Hogwarts.

Granted, Harry thought that Ron and Hermione were completely bonkers, and took every chance he could get to tell them both over the passing months.

"This is for the best," Hermione would tell Harry.

"What if it's not for the best? What if things could be better?" Harry often argued.

What if. Of course, the what if question often swirled through her mind.

What if she took a chance and tried to make a relationship work with Ron?

Her response to Harry was always the same: "I'm not willing to take a chance on losing my best friend."

It was often hard to wrap her mind around the events that transpired between them over the last several years. I had sex with Ron. I had sex with my best friend. How were they supposed to move past that?

But her friendship with Ron was more solid than ever. There were no more challenging conversations, petty arguments, or jealousy between them. It was the longest amount of time that she'd gone without getting into some sort of row with Ron.

A part of her — a small part that she often tried to ignore — missed that. She missed the way Ron would challenge her on certain topics. Nowadays, they often agreed on everything, especially when working together on cases at the Ministry. Hermione attributed it simply to the fact that they were older now, more mature, and had finally found a rhythm to communicate appropriately with one another.

They were a team, a strong team, and she felt immensely grateful for that.

Hermione saved up as much paid leave as she could and decided to take almost the entire month of April 2006 off, with Kingsley's permission, so that she could go for an extended visit to see her parents in Australia.

Her intentions to see her parents were true. However, she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit the real reason she decided to extend her trip. Her return date would put her past the upcoming eighth anniversary of the Battle. Hermione already revealed to Ron and Harry that she would not be there to partake in any reunion celebrations. She didn't miss the disappointment that flashed across Ron's face.

But her reasoning had everything to do with Ron. Truth be told, she was nervous. She and Ron didn't have the best track record when it came to that particular day, and she just wanted one year where there wasn't a chance to rock the boat.

It was a cowardly move, one that she knew Harry would berate if he ever found out.

What she wasn't expecting was for her parents to be so perceptive.

On the morning of May 2nd, her mother decided to broach the subject of Ron.

"He is such a delightful young man," Jean Granger remarked.

Hermione gave her mother a questioning look. Where was she going with this conversation?

"It's a shame, really, that you two couldn't make something work — you just both have so much chemistry…"

"Mum," Hermione warned. She wasn't really ready to discuss what had or hadn't happened with Ron, on that particular day, of all days.

Jean attempted to hide her coy smile behind her teacup. "I'm just saying, Dear, we know he cares for you a great deal. I mean, the fact alone that he takes the time to send us a few letters—"

"Wait, what?" Hermione interrupted, shell-shocked. Ron wrote to her parents?

"Why, yes." Jean set her teacup down onto the table, brows furrowed over in confusion. "Every few months or so he'll write to us to check in. I thought you knew."

No. No, she didn't know.

Hermione sat back in her chair, dumbfounded. How could he do that without telling her?

"Oh, Hermione," Jean began, leaning over the table to place a sympathetic hand over Hermione's. "That look. It's that look, right there, that makes me wonder…"

"What look?" Hermione snapped her head towards her mom sharply.

Jean only smiled softly back at her daughter, "That look that tells me there is still something more. Am I not mistaken to know that there has been something more between you and Ron in the past?"

Her mother was right, of course. And the longer Hermione stayed silent about it, the clearer it would be to both of her parents.

"He's my best friend," Hermione whispered softly, letting her eyes fall to the table in front of her.

"He could still be your best friend," Jean urged, giving their joined hands a squeeze. "You just have to be willing to take the chance."

"I've done that already," Hermione stood abruptly, pacing the room. "You don't understand-"

"Does Ron understand? Do you understand?" Jean interrupted.

Hermione paused in her stride. "What do you mean?"

"Do either of you understand why you truly decided to remain just friends? Because I don't believe for a second that it was because you didn't love each other."

"Of course I love him!" Hermione shouted shrilly, eliciting another grin from her mother. "He's my-"

"Best friend. Yes, I know. Harry is also your best friend too, right?" Jean questioned, arching her brow.

Here we go. Hermione sighed deeply. "Yes."

"But you love him differently than Ron."

Hermione nibbled on her lip. "I suppose, yeah." She certainly never even thought about kissing or shagging Harry.

Jean stood silently and walked out of the room, leaving a perplexed Hermione in her wake. When her mother returned, she handed Hermione her extendable beaded bag.

"Go home," she insisted.

"Wh-what?" Hermione sputtered, "But I'm not due back for another-"

"Go home and sort it all out with Ron."

Hermione's shoulders sagged instantly. "I-I can't."

Jean reached over to grab Hermione by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "You can. Take the chance, Hermione. I don't want my daughter to have any regrets. Follow your heart, it'll lead you where you need to go."

Follow my heart.

Hermione leaned forward to give her mother a swift kiss on the cheek.

After some mild preparations, Hermione arranged three emergency portkeys for travel back to Ottery St. Catchpole, knowing the Weasleys would all be having lunch together by the time she arrived.

Her entire stomach was twisted into knots, the anxiety settling in over not knowing what was about to happen next.

After successfully making it through her final portkey, she had one last apparition point to get her just inside the wards at the Burrow.

Her mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions, her palms sweaty with anticipation. She clenched her fists tightly, trying to imagine the Burrow as she disapparated, and she knew instantly that something was wrong.

A sickening, tearing sensation spread through her skin, and she screamed out in pain just before everything went black.

Ron

It felt different, wrong even, to be spending the day without Hermione.

Despite this particular day having memories for them that were both sad and happy, he still wanted her there. He couldn't imagine getting through this day and the continued loss he felt whenever they honored Fred without her.

"Ronnie, come tuck in," Molly Weasley's voice rang out, disrupting his inner monologue.

He sighed and followed his mom's instructions, finding a seat directly across from Harry, who was bouncing baby Lily on his knee. He gave Ron a knowing look, which Ron pointedly ignored.

Before Ron could scoop a hefty portion of potatoes onto his plate, an owl screeched and perched itself on the kitchen windowsill.

"I'll get it," Harry happily offered, handing Lily over to Molly.

"It's from Kingsley!" Harry unrolled the note with ease and scanned it quickly with his eyes, his face remaining oddly impassive and neutral.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked, his mouth full of potatoes.

Clearing his throat, Harry met Ron's curious eyes immediately. "Ron, can I speak with you in the sitting room for a moment?"

All eyes shifted to Ron, who suddenly felt a deep pit in his stomach as he swallowed. Wordlessly, he followed Harry out of the room.

"Ron, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath before I tell you this next one," Harry murmured cautiously once they were a safe distance away, gesturing to the sofa for Ron to sit down.

Ron remained standing, hairs prickling up on his skin, alarmed by the warning Harry provided. "What is it? What happened?"

"Hermione is at St. Mungo's — there's been an accident."

Ron was already heading for the fireplace before Harry had even finished his sentence.

"St. Mungo's? Harry, what the bloody hell is going on?!" He whirled around, picking up the bucket of floo powder.

"She was splinched when she attempted to apparate into Ottery for—"

"Ottery? What the fuck is she doing back here? She was supposed to be in Australia visiting her parents!"

"I don't know, mate," Harry replied honestly, watching Ron warily as he picked up a fistful of the powder.

"Ron, wait—"

"Don't," Ron shot back harshly. His face softened almost immediately, feeling like a git for shouting at Harry when he knew he was likely just as concerned as he was. "Just, let me go first. Please?"

Harry nodded slowly, "Yeah, alright. But you'll update me, yeah? And I'll be there in a flash if you need me."

"I will, Harry," Ron agreed, inhaling a shaky breath. Letting the floo powder slip through his fingers, he roared out, "St. Mungo's!" surrendering his entire body into the bright green flames.

"Sir, are you family?" The Healer asked a very impatient Ron, who had just arrived at the Janus Thickey Ward on the fourth floor for treatment of spell damage.

"Er, I…"

"If you're not family, I am going to have to kindly ask you to remain in the visitor's tearoom on the fifth floor."

"But, I am family!" Ron finally managed out through an exasperated breath.

"Oh, are you her brother?"

Ron wrinkled his nose instantly. Bloody hell. "No, absolutely not, I'm her...husband."

Hermione is going to kill me.

The witch's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I am so sorry, sir. Right this way."

The Healer led Ron swiftly down a long corridor, and a cold chill ran down Ron's spine.

He had to see Hermione. He had to know she would be alright.

The Healer finally stopped at the end of the hall, pushing back a curtain to reveal an alert Hermione, who was sitting up in bed, her entire right arm bandaged up from her injury. A sense of relief washed over him, knowing that she was at least conscious.

"Miss Granger, your husband is here," the Healer introduced Ron's presence, and he heard Hermione gasp sharply as she registered that he was there.

"I'll just give you two some privacy," the woman smiled before disappearing back behind the curtain.

Ron bit down hard on his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets while he stood awkwardly by the curtain, making no attempt to move closer — not without gauging her reaction first.

Hermione clucked her tongue and raised her eyebrows. "So…husband, huh?"

Ron shook his head and chuckled, now stepping towards the side of her bed. "Don't take the piss. It was the only way I could convince them to let me in here."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, yet gestured for Ron to sit down in the chair next to her.

"I mean, we're too famous for anyone here to believe that I was your brother." Ron cheekily grinned.

Hermione's eyebrows only arched even higher. "Really? You would've wanted to call yourself my brother?"

"Hell no."

Hermione let out a loud giggle, and Ron's heart swelled. "It's good to hear you laugh."

Hermione's laughter faded out, and she gave him the most tender expression. "I'm glad you're here, although I wish it was under better circumstances."

"You almost died today."

Ron couldn't help the lodge of emotion that got stuck in his throat, and he could tell that Hermione was breathing heavily by the way her shoulders tensed up as they rose and fell.

"I'd hardly call getting splinched-"

"You would hardly call it what? Almost getting killed? 'Cause that's sure as hell what it looks like!" He pointed angrily to her mangled arm. It seemed to be a similar injury to his own splinching many years ago on the run — like a chunk of flesh was scooped out of her arm with a knife.

"I was just trying to surprise you," she murmured softly.

"Surprise me?" Ron questioned, startled by her confession.

"Well...yeah. You and Harry. It's been over a month, and…"

He wondered if she was going to say she missed them.

"Stupid of me, really." Hermione shook her head furiously, wiping away the tears that trickled from the corners of her eyes with her one uninjured hand.

Ron caught her hand in mid-air, holding it tightly between both of his own. "You, Hermione Granger, are not stupid. Not even in the slightest."

Hermione gave Ron a smile that didn't quite reach her lips, her eyes still watery. He hated to see her so defeated. His heart started pounding as he could feel the pulse on her wrist.

"Don't do that to me, again," he muttered darkly, his voice cracking upon several words.

"It's not like I went looking to get splinched, Ronald." Hermione huffed out a frustrated breath.

"Still."

Without a second thought, or any deliberation of the consequences of his subsequent actions, Ron leaned over and covered her soft, supple lips with his. The kiss was slow and gentle, much different from the other recent kisses they've shared, all very similar in style and very much filled with lust. This kiss felt more like how a boyfriend would kiss his girlfriend, or even how a husband would lovingly kiss his wife.

It was brief, just long enough for Ron to feel the spark that ignited his bones, before he opened his eyes to check her reaction.

"You shouldn't have done that..." Hermione whispered, her eyes still closed as he pulled back just ever so slightly. His lips brushed against hers once more for a last quick peck.

"You almost died today," he simply repeated, and Hermione's eyes opened wide, staring deeply into his baby blues.

"We agreed that we were better off as friends," she said with a shaky breath.

Ron's mouth curved up sadly. "Doesn't mean I don't still love you, yeah?"

He watched Hermione swallow hard, eyes welling up again. "I love you, too."

Ron gripped her hands tighter. "I need you in my life."

"I need you, too."

She needed him, too.

It was as if someone had taken a pitchfork to his heart. The realization struck him so deeply that he almost had to step out of the room to compose himself. He loved Hermione Granger so fully, so completely. She was it for him, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he was it for her.

He just needed to wait until she realized it, too.