A/N: I couldn't be happier that you all are enjoying this story, and leaving me such fantastic comments.

IMP: No matter how it seems at the moment- This is a ROMIONE.

I do plan to reply to all of you, but RL is killing me now. But I do need to respond to one review here.

dreamboy7 asked me how they can find the unedited, finished work. I was really hoping FF App would keep the downloaded copy (the web readable format) even after I deleted the chapters. But the App has backfired on me and deleted that copy too. So, I don't really have anything other than 50 odd word files that hold the original chapters.
Also, as anyone reading this again would have observed, the new chapters are completely rewritten. I have changed and added multiple new things and will continue to do the same for the future chapters. And reading the old version will not even be the same as reading this new improvised story. I apologise for not being able to keep your request. I hope you'll keep reading and enjoying this though!

As always, a BIG thanks to my fab beta callieskye. She makes this so much better.

Chapter 8: Pretenses

Harry drank deeply from the mug while he stood at the tiny balcony attached to the kitchen. His head was splitting into two, but not, he realised, because of the Firewhiskey he had consumed earlier. The rare sunny day in London was strikingly in contrast to their lives- yes, their lives, he decided. It might have been years, but his world was still entwined with the two idiots he called his best friends.

He turned his head to catch a glimpse of the bigger moron- the bloke was still passed out. As much as he knew Ron needed to go home, Harry couldn't bring himself to wake him. Merlin knew how many nights Ron would have spent without a decent sleep, carrying the heavy burden alone in his heart. He glanced at his dented watch that once belonged to Fabian Weasley. They should have returned to the Burrow ages ago.

Another few minutes, he decided, looking fondly at his best friend before he drank heavily from the mug again. Fuck the coffee, he needed some alcohol.

Resting his back against the wall, he tried unsuccessfully to erase the vivid images from his memory. If a mere recounting could leave him this restless, he wondered how Ron had survived the ordeal all alone. Was he surprised? Perhaps on a deep instinctive level, not so much. What else could you expect from a guy who had willingly sacrificed himself at the age of eleven? A guy who dared challenge a suspected mass murderer to kill him while he stood on a broken leg at fourteen? No, Ron had been always the same. Only his idea of self-sacrifice had grown with him, to take dangerous proportions.

As the sun hid behind the floaty, wispy clouds, Harry found himself wondering about the fate of their friendship. Not Ron and his; the bloke was practically his brother. Hermione, though a little more aloof now than before, would still always be as close as a family for him. But his fears back from their sixth year had come true, as a trio they were no longer as close as they once were. From what Ron had told him, Hermione had refused to hear him out. He couldn't exactly blame her, but at the same time, he couldn't find fault in Ron's judgement. He'd have done the exact same.

For almost seven long years, both Ron and Hermione had lived in purgatory. It all made sense now- Ron's silence and Hermione's absence from the Weasley family home since the day he returned. Harry forced away the urge to call her- tell her what a mess Ron was, explain the reasons. He scoffed bitterly to himself; Hermione wouldn't be that easy to placate, and for good reason. Despite his good intentions, Ron had hurt her way too much this time.

He took another deep gulp from the bitter, sugar and milkless concoction. Why had she never told him? He considered her a sister; their shared grief should have brought them together. But just like during the Hunt, Ron's absence had left them without the link that tied them. They had been at a loss for words, choosing instead, to grieve alone. He briefly remembered the night when Hermione had found him in Molly's kitchen after Ron's disappearance. Harry had spent many nights wondering if he ought to have stayed and spoken to her- if he should have apologised for not bringing Ron back. But he had been a coward, unable to face her- even for an apology.

Ron stirred in the background, muttering incomprehensibly in his sleep, and Harry was forced out of his musings. He walked briskly to the table and dropped his mug before abruptly Disapparating. He was back soon enough. This time he prepared another cup, choosing to increase the amount of coffee powder in the brew. Approaching the sleeping man, he placed the cup in front of him.

"Mate, wake up," he called, shaking Ron softly by the shoulder. He had to say his name a couple more times before Ron stirred, squinting up at him.

"Bloody 'ell, Harry, shut the blinds," he replied, groggy. "My head's killing me," he added, grabbing a fistful of his short-cropped hair.

Harry flicked his wand, the door to the balcony closed with a loud bang and the blinds rolled down, shrouding the room in diffused light.

Harry pulled out the vial of Hangover potion from his pocket, pouring all of it in Ron's cup. "Drink it," he instructed. "Don't want your Mum to see you this way."

Ron took a sip, grimaced at the foul taste before gulping it down at one go and wiped his lips with the back of his palm.

"We've gotta go back, don't we?" he inquired helplessly, and Harry nodded grimly.

"Mate-" he began but paused. Fuck! How was he suppose to tell Ron that Hermione was at the Burrow already?!

"Don't tell Ginny," Ron declared, standing up and running his fingers through his hair. "Just- just don't tell anyone right now."

Harry assumed Ron was trying his best to keep his game face on. Deciding that the bloke deserved a fair warning, he spoke carefully. "She's there already, Ron."

For one brief minute, Ron looked at him in utter shock and almost expected him to refuse to go. Perhaps that's what Harry would have done. It would certainly be the easier option. But even as he watched, Ron managed to get a grip on his emotions. His face turned impassive, the only sign of his distress evident in the way his fist tightened around the back of his chair, rendering his knuckles white.

"Okay," he breathed at last and walked off to the sink with two mugs. Harry watched him wash and dry them the muggle way and wipe his hands on his jeans before he joined Harry at the table again.

"You okay?" he found himself asking, and Ron let out a smile that looked way too forced and bitter. His eyes remained devoid of emotions though.

"Got no other option, have I?"

Harry wanted to say it would be fine, that Hermione would come around but he decided Ron could do without false assurances. Also, the least he could do for him was avoid mentioning her name. The two of them walked out of the kitchen and into the living space. It was only then that Harry saw the small box on the table and the glittering ring held in it. He turned instinctively to his best mate only to notice Ron had caught him watching and was now looking at the object too. For a brief minute, the pain hidden inside seemed to surface on his features, but then he walked ahead briskly and picked it up. Snapping the lid shut, Ron pushed the case deep into his pocket and faltered for a second. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke.

"Do me a favour, Harry. Get me out of the Burrow as soon as you can."

"I will, mate," he responded sadly.

Hermione found herself looking out of the window from Ginny's room yet again and forced herself to turn around. She pushed away the anxiety that had gripped her and tried to concentrate on the bubbly witch sitting amidst a clutter of boxes and dresses spread over two beds.

Ginny was carefully placing Hermione's necklace back in its case. "I'm relieved this lot is done," she exclaimed, flashing a smile.

"Let's get these in order before your Mum has a heart attack," Hermione suggested and flicked her wand. The dresses folded themselves and arranged into a neat heap. The jewellery, shoes and other items all took their places in their respective boxes and cases. With a huge sigh, Ginny collapsed onto her now empty bed and Hermione laid down opposite her.

"Thanks!" Ginny sighed happily before sobering up a little."It'll take more than a messy room for Mum to get a heart attack these days. Ron has seen to that, " she added bitterly.

That was one name Hermione didn't want to hear right now; she managed a nod. She found herself glancing once more at the window before she composed herself and picked up the dresses from the bed just to have something to do.

"Nevertheless, we should store these properly," she declared, flicking the wardrobe open with her wand and busying herself with setting them in.

"Hermione?" Ginny called from behind.

"Hmm?"

"Are you guys- I meant- did you talk to him?"

Hermione was glad Ginny couldn't see her face. She wasn't happy with the turmoil in her heart that intensified at the mere mention of him.

"Yes."

"And-?"

Hermione ensured she was well hidden behind the open door of the wardrobe before she spoke.

"Don't worry," she said and paused, wondering how much she could say, "you won't have a mop as your groom's best man." She tried keeping her tone light and jovial, not sure if Ginny would buy it.

"So, you're okay with the stunt he pulled?" Ginny asked again.

She had expected this unwanted topic to crop up a hundred times, if not more during her stay, but knowing that didn't make going through it any easier. She hated herself for her weakness.

"We had a chat," she said carefully, "we decided it would be best to keep it peaceful."

"You know I fully support you, right?" Ginny's tone was sincere, Hermione turned around and managed a smile, knowing well that Ginny could see through it.

"Thanks, Gin," she replied and walked towards the bed. However, her eyes were unwillingly drawn outside the window, towards the boundary of the house. Anyone visiting the Burrow would have to Apparate there unless they were Flooing in, of course.

It had been a strange morning. She had arrived minutes after her meeting with Ron. She had not lingered around her house; Ron wasn't supposed to know that he had managed to get under her skin. She wanted to prove to him (and on some level, herself too) that she couldn't care less about seeing him again only minutes after their 'meeting'.

Molly had been her usual self, greeting her with open arms and food. Ginny had been ecstatic. And despite her reluctance to visit the Burrow, Hermione was soaking in the warmth of the place that was practically a second home for her. That was until Molly went upstairs to wake Ron... She had steadied herself, pulling up all her defences against him. But instead of Ron, a highly distressed Molly had come running down the stairs. Ron wasn't home.

She had expected him to turn up soon. Perhaps he had just lingered at the park? She had forcefully stopped herself from wondering about the implications of his absence, even annoyed at the stunt. But when minutes turned into an hour and Harry and George both returned without him, she began to worry despite herself. She contemplated telling the others about her meeting him, but that confession would only trigger more questions. Questions she wasn't yet ready to face.

The message from Harry's Patronus had caused Molly to break down, tears of relief running down her cheeks. Ron had had the audacity to pull the same stunt again. It had been hard to control her anger, but the worst part was the realisation that she still cared enough to have been insanely anxious. Ron had no right to cause her so much pain- not again, not after everything he had done.

"It's been a while. Why isn't Harry back yet?"

Hermione didn't voice aloud that she had been wondering the same. "Don't worry, they'll be home," she responded. As if on cue, two loud cracks echoed outside and the girls rushed to the window.

"That prat!" fumed Ginny and dashed out of the door.

Hermione, however, stood rooted to the spot.

Her boys were back.

The sight of the two familiar figures walking side by side brought back an onslaught of memories. She grabbed hold of the window pane to stay standing. Hidden behind the curtains, she found herself watching the tall red-haired man. It had been years and yet, that gait was still as familiar as ever- the way he looked at Harry with a sideward glance, the way his lips moved to mutter words she couldn't hear, the way he looked around, the way those brows furrowed and his hand moved instinctively towards the wand in his right pocket before he relaxed and smiled…. Hermione closed her eye, turning away from the window and stood leaning against the wall.

His voice from hours ago was still fresh as ever. Ron was hurting.

Don't, she begged herself, please don't…

Concentrating on her breathing, she forced herself to think back on the day her world had crashed down around her. She focused on the memory that she kept locked in the deepest corner of her heart and allowed the anger and hurt to claim her. All these years, she had held on by sheer will, by allowing the anger to fester and grow. It was a dangerous move, but she knew she could never do away with his memories- they were inexplicably entwined with her very being. Without the anger, all she had left was the unbearable pain, a gift from the one person she'd trusted and loved beyond all. The fury at least allowed her to keep herself sane, allowed her to live without his memories haunting her every second of her life.

She heard the door open and the loud cry from Molly followed by muffled words. She had to go out and see him now, she had no choice. But, she would not -could not allow him to see her weaker side.

…..

Four pairs of eyes found her as she exited the room onto the staircase. Hermione felt Molly and Ginny watching her apprehensively but her eyes unwittingly sought and found the blue ones. She grabbed onto the railing, hoping earnestly that her face was not betraying the turmoil within.

Ron's face was impassive; no indication that they had met earlier in the day, nothing to show what had happened that morning, no trace left of all they had been through.

"Hey there," he said politely.

"Hi, Ron," she replied, wondering if there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes at the sound of his name from her.

"How are you?" he asked, keeping up the pretence.

"Good, and you?" she replied. She hadn't taken a step forward; she was still standing at the head of the stairs. He hadn't moved towards her an inch either. The two women, she figured, were still watching them. The very air was stiffening and Hermione wondered, how on earth she expected to survive under the same roof as him.

"Erm... if you guys are done, could we get a bite? Ron and I missed breakfast," quipped Harry, in an obvious attempt to move the attention away from Ron and Hermione. Hermione was glad when the tactic worked and Molly ushered them into the kitchen. Plates and cutlery flew out of the rack and soon, heavily laden trays floated towards the table between them. She finally managed to descend down the staircase and took a seat to Ginny's right. Ron sat on the other side, next to Harry who sat opposite to Ginny but to Harry's right, deftly avoiding a scenario where they were face to face.

"So where have you been all morning?" Ginny asked. With her arms folded at her chest, she cut quite an intimidating figure.

Hermione watched how little Ron was eating. She had seen him more times with food than she cared to count, but the man who sat at the table was no long the zealous boy who loved to eat. In fact, he looked like he would have prefered to be anywhere but here.

"Woke up very early," he replied, addressing his mother instead. "Thought, it'd make sense to sort the flat out a bit, but y'know I suck at household spells. Had to do it the muggle way. Dozed off at some point till Harry arrived and woke me up," he added, looking at his plate instead of his Mum.

Hermione found herself wondering how much of his story was true. Here, she'd been berating herself for their secret confrontation, fighting her memories and emotions they'd brought with them. But all this time, Ron had moved on with life just as he had done before. Their meeting hadn't affected him in the least. She looked away from him sharply, staring ahead, but not actually seeing anything in particular, searching for a way to escape. She turned towards Harry as he cleared his throat.

"We were wondering...y'know, if you'd be okay with Ron staying at Grimmauld Place with me till the wedding?"

Hermione wasn't new to the silent conversations that happened between the boys. She could see it was preplanned. She wondered how much Harry knew, wondered if Ron had confided in him. He most likely had.

"Why?" asked Molly, while Ginny glanced at her once.

"Please, Mum?"

Her deduction was right- it was indeed preplanned. He was keeping his promise of staying out of her way. For the next few minutes, Molly tried unsuccessfully to coax the boys into staying at the Burrow instead but relented to their wish eventually.

"I hope you guys aren't leaving right now, are you?" inquired Ginny, "Harry, you and I still need to get our Apparition permits for Italy."

Harry gave Ron an apologetic look that Hermione didn't miss. She assumed Ginny saw it too.

"I guess I'll go back to my flat and finish the work then," added Ron. He really was itching to get out of the house, and away from her. What else was she expecting anyway?

"Take Hermione along, she'll do it in a snap," suggested Molly goodnaturedly, looking between them eagerly. Hermione could have cursed aloud in her helplessness. She caught Ron's eyes for a second before they both looked away.

"Or I could catch a nap in my room," he said faking a yawn, "I'll probably end up falling asleep again."

"Yeah, you should catch up on your sleep first," she suggested quickly. Thankfully, Ginny ushered Harry away as they were getting late, and Ron too left for his room soon after.

...

Later in the day, Hermione stood outside, admiring the hedge she had created around the house. It was almost dusk, and she wondered how long Ginny and Harry would take to return. It would have made sense to bring some of her paperwork, but she hadn't expected to be stuck in the house alone with Ron. Well, that wasn't completely true, Molly was at home, cooking up a scrumptious dinner for the family. But Ron was there too, not in the kitchen, but up in his room, the very place where she had spent uncountable days- and even a fair share of her nights...She grumbled under her breath, cursing her head for bringing the deep buried memories to the fore. She was stronger than this, she told herself. She hadn't pulled herself out of the depths only to sink back in just by his mere presence. She really couldn't afford to be weak- not now, not ever.

Deciding that she could distract herself by helping Molly, she pushed the kitchen door open, the delicious smell of food bombarding her senses immediately.

"I was just about to call you, dear," said Molly, as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "Get Ron and set the table outside, will you? Andromeda and Teddy are arriving shortly. It will be a little too cramped to eat in here."

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. "Why wake him up? I can do it myself. Let him sleep," she suggested, hoping desperately that Molly would let it rest.

"Hush! He's been sleeping for hours already!" she countered. As her rotten luck would have it, footsteps echoed from the stairs and soon, a messy-haired Ron appeared. Hermione cursed at the way her heart leapt at the sight and looked away abruptly.

"Here you are! Help Hermione set the table outside," instructed Molly. Hermione found herself hoping fervently for Ron to protest, but his face was just as impassive as before as he descended the stairs.

"Right, Mum," he said, briskly crossing her and pushing the door open. He gave her a polite but formal smile that did not reach his eyes.

"I could have done this alone," she hissed as Molly turned away from them and into the pantry.

"I know," he replied quietly. He did sound genuine and Hermione couldn't figure out why it made her angrier.

"I'll take the table, you bring the chairs," she said and he agreed wordlessly.

Soon a canopy had been created outside, lanterns hung from it, casting a soft glow on the table beneath. Ron worked quietly, setting the plates while she arranged the cutlery. Once again, Hermione found herself watching him, no matter how much she admonished herself, her resolve had weakened by his mere presence and on some level, he had managed to perk her curiosity. She had never seen him like this. Even during their big fights in school, when they stopped talking for months, Ron's features had said it all- whether it was anger, hurt or guilt. But this Ron seemed to be someone else altogether. He looked as if he felt nothing, as if he couldn't even feel her eyes on him. He kept his eyes glued to the table where plates and goblets were taking their place under instruction from his wand. She increased her pace, arranging the knives and forks at double speed; she needed to get away from him. However, Ron was first to wrap up his share of the work.

She watched as he paused, perhaps on the brink of saying something, but then he met her eyes for a brief minute, nodded a little and walked away towards the orchard. She stood there, under the creamy white canopy and the soft light from the lanterns, wondering why she wasn't as relieved as she ought to be about Ron actually keeping his promise.

A/n: Thanks for reading! and please do review! Thanks!