AN: If you read this story, you have to read my other story I co-wrote. It's under Lethal Trinity's account. It's called A Hogwarts Tale: The Alchemist: Betrayal. Read it! It's amazing, if I don't say so myself. Hope you like my story!

A sharp thudding could be heard from the kitchen of the little flat that belonged to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was in the kitchen chopping up tomatoes, onions and lettuce for a salad. The chopping was much more aggresive then necessary, and if Ron had walked in and found her like that, he might have feared for his well being. They'd had another row, just like any other night, and following as was promised, Ron left to go to a local bar a few blocks down to dwell on his thoughts over a few fire whiskeys.

She sighed, setting the knife down, her hands trembling slightly along with her lower lip as she tried to fight back tears. She thought over her mother's words, when she had talked to her about what was going on between herself and Ron. Laura Granger had told her daughter that sometimes, people grow apart, and without their consent, they drift in different directions. Hermione couldn't bring herself to accept those words. It was different when they were teenagers though, and she couldn't ignore that, but once it got down to getting a job and making a living in their magical world, she and Ron failed to agree. Agreeing to disagree wasn't working either.

Hermione jumped when she heard a sound on the window behind her and she peered out into the darkness, not being able to see much. She slowly opened the window then jumped back when a light brown barn owl hopped onto her counter with a roll of parchment tied to its talon. Hermione untied the letter and set it aside for a moment while she got a treat for the owl, then sent it back out the window. She unrolled the parchment after closing the window and read it. It was from Molly Weasley; she knew she recognized the hand writing.

Ron sat at the bar on a tall, wooden stool, sipping on his alchohol, staring at a spot on the counter, lost in his recollections of the fight from earlier that night. The girl next to him seemed to be flirting with him, but he was oblivious, only giving one word answers and not even looking at the woman as if she was an attractive human... Ron didn't care. He payed for his drinks and decided to leave before the girl got carried away in trying to get his attention, or before he ended up drunk and stumbling home. He didn't need to make Hermione any more angry then she was.

Ron got in the elevator and headed up to the top level and pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, stepping into the small, two bedroom flat. "Hermione... you here?" He called softly, a little timidly.

"I'm in the kitchen." She called back, trying to steady her voice.

Ron walked into the kitchen and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. "Are you still mad at me?" He asked softly, his lips at her ear.

"No, I'm not mad anymore. I'm sorry, I don't like it when we fight, it's just... I know I can be a little stubborn sometimes." She said softly back.

"It's not your fault, Hermione. I love you, and I want you to know that. I'm sorry too."

"I love you too. I made your favorite cookies if you want some. I'll meet you in the living room." She said, looking over her shoulder at him.

Ron nodded and kissed her cheek before walking out to their small living room, with a large couch, an old rocking chair and a fireplace that had been void of flames for a few weeks since it was summer.

Hermione made sure the letter from Molly was securely in her back pocket as she put three cookies on a plate and got him a glass of milk. She took a deep breath then walked out into the living room, putting on a strained smile.

"Thank you."

"So, I got a letter from your mum today." She started quietly as she took a seat in the rocking chair after pulling the letter from her back pocket.

"Oh yeah? Wha' di' i' say?" He asked from behind a mouth full of cookie.

"Well, she wanted to know how we were doing here in our new flat, how we liked it and all, wanted me to tell you hello and that she'll be sending you some gifts soon. She also told me that Remus and Tonks actually had a son, before they both died in the war. Who would've thought? I don't know why they wanted to hide him from everyone, but yeah... and, erm, we're going to take care of the little boy." Hermione explained, rambling a bit, then doing a full 360 as she came back to her final statement, just blurting it out and getting it over with.

Ron stared at her as he swallowed his cookie without even chewing it very well. He blinked a few times, as if that let the words sink in a little better, more completely. "Wait... what?!" He asked, shocked into a state of numbness.

"His name is Teddy Lupin, and I've been given care of him, I'm his gaurdian now, well... we are." She said, trying to smile to encourage him to embrace this new thought.

Ron stood up and shook his head vigorously. "Hermione... I'm not ready to be a father... figure. I-I want to live a little, travel, do things that would otherwise be unavailable to me if I was tied down with a kid." He said, waving his hands around for emphasis, but it just annoyed Hermione.

"What are you saying? You're not going to help me?" She asked, her voice taking the defensive. She stood up and walked over to me and took his hand in hers, but his hand was gone just as soon as it was there. "What if it was your own child? What if I was pregnant?" She asked him, her brows furrowed, and her expression pleading.

"I-I don't know, okay!" He said defensively, almost shouting at her, a frown on his face, but she felt he wasn't sincerely sorry.

Hermione fell back to sit on the couch, her head now resting in her hands. "Please, Ron... don't do this. I need you." She begged through her hands, the sound of her voice muffled as she felt her hands become wet with her tears.

"I can't..." Ron said in a pained tone. It was like a stab to her stomach. "I guess this is it..." He added softly, and he took a step forward to comfort Hermione, to apologize, but as soon as he took a step forward, Hermione heard the door shut, and the man she loved was gone.

Hermione looked up slowly, only to confirm that Ron was gone, and they would no longer be together. She stood up slowly from the couch, her hands shaky, and tears streaming down her eyes. 'How could he just walk out on me like that?' She asked herself angrily, starting to feel bitterness towards him boiling in the pit of her stomach, along with a painful, gaping hole of a wound that seemed to be there now, appearing right after the door had shut.

She walked around the room for a moment, not knowing what to do. She finally fell back on the couch, left over tears finding their way down her face, but no new ones fell. Her tears were now replaced by anger, frustration, and at a loss of what to do. She looked up to the fire place and her eyes caught a picture on the mantel of herself, Ron, and Harry from the summer after their seventh year, when all the fighting had ended. They all looked truly happy, and this made her even more angry, to see Ron's smiling face looking at her like everything was fine. She stormed over to the fire and slammed the picture face down, and as she turned away from the picture, she took a quick, sharp breath inward.

Her hands slowly reached back over and flipped up the picture, and her eyes stared into Harry's beautiful emerald eyes, and he smiled back at her, one of his arms over her shoulder in the picture. She couldn't help but smile softly back, a sad, meak smile. It was then she knew what she had to do, but the question was if she had the courage to venture there, to go down that path. She didn't even know if he would want this, because Ron had certainly given a pretty steadfast answer. She was afraid now, and she had every right to be, given the fact that Ron was her trial run.

As the night wore on, late into the midnight hours, Hermione had changed into her pajamas; a pair of blue flannel pajama pants and a white tank top, and curled up on her bed, holding one of Ron's old shirts in her hands, clutching at it until her knuckles turned white. Her hands relaxed as she slowly cried herself to sleep. She would be lieing to herself if she said that she wouldn't cry over the stupid git. She'd loved that stupid git, and nobody could judge her for being heart broken. Although some might say she was a stupid git for loving him in the first place.