a/n: This is a Romione and NOT A DRAMIONE.
Thanks to each one of you for reading/reviewing and giving this story so much love.
A warning is in order for this chapter- No matter what happens, trust me- this is a Romione through and through.

Lots of love and thanks to callieskye for her exemplary beta-skills. She continues to make this so much better.

Chapter 14

It was past eight at night by the time Ron and Hermione dropped Thomas back at the Grangers'. The drive from the hospital had been quiet; exhaustion and worry had kept all the three occupied. Dropping off Hermione and her father at the door, Ron drove into the garage before he went back to the house to hand over the keys, only to find Hermione with her arms around her father.

He barely caught her small, teary whisper as he halted, uncomfortable. "I'm afraid, Dad."

Thomas looked over his daughter's head and met Ron's eyes, all the while rubbing his daughter's back lovingly. "She's in good hands, love. You know your mum's a fighter."

Hermione sniffed aloud and extricated herself from her father's arms, wiping away the last of the moisture from beneath her eyes. "I know but I have lost-..." Her words trailed off into abrupt silence. Ron presumed she might have heard him shuffle behind her.

"Well, we've to keep our hopes high," her father responded.

Ron took the moment to hand over the car keys, forcing a weak smile. He wanted to say something- anything. He wanted to assure them, especially Hermione, that he'd be around in case they needed him but one look at her, and he lost the ability to put thoughts in words. She had absolutely no reason to believe him, quite the contrary in fact, and he no longer had any right to try and convince her otherwise.

"Take care, Dad," Hermione sniffed, and gave her father another hug.

"I'm seeing you tomorrow, aren't I?"

Ron noticed Thomas looking hopefully at both of them. It left him fumbling for an answer. There was a brief moment when Hermione turned marginally towards him before she replied.

"I- we-we both will be there tomorrow."

Relieved and surprised, he cleared his throat, wished the elderly gentleman 'night and turned, taking small steps to follow her stride till they reached the gates. Once they had reached the street, however, he was once again at a loss so when Hermione paused mid-step, he followed suit.

"I- I think I'm going to walk the rest of the way home," she declared, looking at a place a foot to his left.

Ron pondered his words silently. He was walking a thin line balance between doing what he craved and keeping the distance she desired. The events of the day had brought them to a fragile truce but how far he could stretch it before she snapped and pushed him away was anyone's guess. He looked around at the vacant road before checking the time on his wristwatch.

"I-," he began, fumbling to phrase his words right. "It's a long walk," he managed at last.

She gave the tiniest of nods before fumbling with her dress. Her right hand disappeared in what he realised was a concealed pocket at her waist and he assumed she was checking for her wand.

"I left my bag and purse back at the Burrow," she explained haltingly. He took it to mean she couldn't hire a cab, but she could always Apparate unless of course, she wasn't feeling strong enough for it...

….

As she left her parents' home to go back to hers, heart laden with fear and pain, Hermione realised she still needed Ron... not Draco, not anyone else- just Ron. She hated it.

It had never been easy for her to show her vulnerable side to the world. Harry and Ron had been the only ones to see how much she panicked under stress, and more often than not, Ron would be the one to motivate her in times of doubt -whether by reminding her that she was a witch back in their first year or every single time after that. He was the one who believed in her abilities, at times more than she did herself, and he never hesitated to voice it out loud. Even after he'd left, she had clung on to his words to deal with his betrayal. Every time she stood at the verge of drowning, she heard him in her heart, telling her that she was stronger than that, brave enough to deal with life. It was ironic how Ron was the very person who drove her to survive his absence, to live on and believe in herself. She hated that she had loved him so much, loved him more than one could possibly love someone.

With his betrayal, he had not just snatched her dreams and the life she had hoped she'd have, he had taken away an intrinsic part of her soul. Despite his betrayal, or perhaps because of it, Hermione knew she could never love someone else as much, never again trust someone as much as she did once.

Hermione had tried removing all trace of him from her life completely. His old letters and photographs were locked away in a box and hidden in her childhood room at her parents' house. She had returned all his belongings too in the hope that it would bring some kind of closure, help her to close the door on her past and move on. But that clearly had not happened. She had a lingering suspicion that she still owned something that belonged to him, something that stopped her from moving on. Perhaps somewhere deep down, she still had some hope left, she pondered.

The loud blazing horn of a passing car broke her musings, and for the briefest of moments she was surprised to find the real Ron walking next to her- his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers, his robes hung limp at the crook of his left arm, his shirt partly untucked from his trousers. It was a sight so familiar that it almost tore her heart apart. He walked with small steps, matching her pace. Once again, his presence threatened to break her resolve to hold on to her grudges against him.

How many times had she wished for a moment like this? How many times had she watched Draco as they sat together, secretly longing for Ron instead- before cursing herself to hell and back for her weakness?

Draco, she knew, no matter how hard he tried, could never be Ron. Could never replace Ron. As much he hated his past life and everything he'd done and said in those years, it wasn't something that could be erased. She had long since forgiven him, choosing instead the unlikely friend she had found in him. Unfortunately, forgiveness couldn't act as an Oblivating Charm. She still remembered a time when Draco had- albeit out of his family beliefs- gone to the extent of wishing her death, watched silently as his own deranged aunt attempted to murder Hermione. She knew she'd never mention it to Draco, but the memories hung heavy in the silence that ensued whenever they spoke of their school life, an invisible wall that would always separate them.

Her memories of Ron, on the other hand, were like a bridge that kept him connected to her, despite everything that had happened, despite all the wounds he had inflicted. Sometimes to her great dismay she found herself questioning his intent behind the break-up. She knew well that she was fooling herself, searching for traces of her lost Ron in the hurtful memories he had left her with. However, she could never deny that Ron was once her rock-solid anchor- the one who never shied away from declaring it openly, and to a large extent, convinced Hermione herself that she was as much a part of the Wizarding world as any pureblood witch or wizard. If he and Harry had not befriended her, Hermione assumed, would have remained as she was- brilliant in public eye, but deeply insecure and alone.

She had learnt to hide her doubts from Draco, although at times she feared he saw them too. How she wished she could hide them from herself...

She walked on, purposefully taking smaller steps, watching and unconsciously adjusting her stride to match his. There had to be some alternate universe, she reckoned, one where she could wrap her arms around him and confess how petrified she was about losing her mum, one where he would still belong to her as he had promised all those years ago. She let out a staggered breath, looking up briefly at the traffic signal before they crossed the road, still together, still silent.

Just once, pleaded her heart, stop him just once. Would a moment suffice or would she need a lifetime to stitch back her heart? What could she say that would make him come back to her?

While she resolutely watched the monotonous movement of her feet eating up the distance one step at a time, his long shadow walking beside her shorter one, she silently longed to catch a glimpse of him. Her feet grew heavy, reluctant for the journey to come to an end, while she struggled to hold herself up. They were barely a block away from her flat when her emotions reached a breaking point. She struggled to slow her breathing, to keep herself from breaking down in front of him.

Why had life dealt her such a rotten hand? Why had it snatched her Ron away?

The past few days had been long and ironically, way too short. Soon, she'd be back at her flat, right into the present. It was as if she had been caught in a time warp, and now, with every step, she was walking back to her present. Her life, her home and whatever little was left of her Ron would be left behind in the week that was now her past.

She halted all of a sudden and turned to the man walking next to her- words, complaints and hurt bubbled just beneath the surface, struggling for release, fighting a losing battle to hold on to what was once hers.

Ron met her gaze with a silent query, and she looked away quickly lest he saw her brimming eyes. Hermione shook her head infinitesimally and started walking again.

…..

Ron always knew he belonged to her, and for a few blissful months back in 1998, he had begun to dream that she could be his too. He had fought a battle and literally went through hell to ensure that she would be safe in their world. And yet, despite all his efforts, he was returning her to her world- one where he was no longer allowed. It was such a cruel twist of fate.

After their meeting in the park back on Wednesday last, he had assumed that the days with her at the Burrow would be hard, but now he found himself longing for those moments too. He wondered if he would be strong enough to let her go when they finally reached her flat, it felt as if they were walking to the end of this journey they shared. Soon they'd reach the fork separating their paths, perhaps forever.

Where would he go from there? She used to be his home; without her, he had nowhere left to go...

Why did he still love her so much, he pondered quietly to himself. If he didn't, he'd still have something left to live for. But that wasn't to be. She had taken away everything that he had with her, even his will to live.

Her dress rustled in the wind as she walked, soft footsteps breaking the quiet of their surroundings. He could hear everything, even the tiniest whimpers she thought she hid so well. Ron kept his hands firmly shoved in his pockets, telling himself over and over that he had no right to touch her, even as a gesture of comfort. His foolish heart kept hoping she'd stop at some point, pull out her wand and jinx him into oblivion for leaving all those years ago. And then, she'd walk into his arms, bury her face in his chest and allow him to hold her back... allow him to beg forgiveness.

So when she did abruptly stop his heart stopped beating, praying, hoping...

Even in the faint streetlight, he could see the moisture glistening in her eyes. He stood burning for her to put words to all that her eyes seemed to be screaming aloud, but she looked away, only to start walking again wordlessly...

…...

He knew it would hurt when they finally reached the end of the road. To be honest, he felt he justly deserved this pain, all the pain he'd experienced in his short life. ? But imagining her walking away, without even a last glance backwards was worse than everything else so far.

They stood facing each other quietly, just beyond the gates of her flat. He hadn't expected her to stop, turn to him and meet his eyes, watching him. For the millionth time since his return, he wondered if she'd hear him out if he confessed, but as always he couldn't bring himself to do it- she had made it clear that she didn't want an explanation. There used to be a time when she could hear the unspoken… Ron wondered if she could still read him like she used to, or had the long years snatched that away from them as well.

"I- I'm sorry…" he mumbled, cursing himself for his lack of courage to say the rest.

He heard her breath hitch as she looked away, swiping her hand under her eyes once more before she spoke.

"I should- I shouldn't have promised Dad you'll visit tomorrow…You don't really have to," she replied without acknowledging his apology.

He struggled to swallow the lump that seemed to have lodged at his throat. "I won't- if you don't want me to."

She met his eyes- hurt and her anger no longer concealed under the layers of indifference. For a moment he couldn't figure out her reasons… and then, he could… but not regarding their plans for the next day.

"You are free to do as you wish. What I want or don't doesn't matter," she replied, tone barely masking the bitterness, or the hurt.

Ron vehemently hoped she'd seen through his mask the past few days, hoped she understood that he was only trying to keep his word. But Hermione looked away and he swore quietly, hopelessly. Fuck, he hated how the pain boiled to the surface at her words, threatening to break the bonds he had set on them.

"I would like to- if you don't mind," he managed with difficulty. He was desperate for a drink or two, perhaps more. Spending so much time with her was draining him emotionally, and he craved the oblivion that only a Firewhiskey could provide.

She nodded once and pressed her lips together as if holding back from saying more.

"Night," he said, breaking the awkward silence between them, and giving her the escape she needed. Hermione seemed relieved. She turned and left without another word, quick steps taking her further away from him, never noticing how he stood watching her retreating form until she turned a corner and disappeared from his view.

…..

She was aching for a lie-down, although Hermione knew well that a decent sleep was highly unlikely in her current state of mind. Forcing all her thoughts away, she quickly moved inside, resisting the urge to take one last look back at Ron. She knew she had to get away before she did something that could potentially damage whatever little self-respect she had left, like run back into his arms, or worse...

Luckily both the lobby and the lift were deserted thanks to the late hour. As the lift slugged it's way up, she felt inside her pocket again to check for her wand. Hermione had left all her belongings back at the Burrow, including her purse and keys. Although she'd have no trouble unlocking her door with magic, she preferred to keep the pretence up in front of her muggle neighbours. Making a mental note to pick up her bag the next morning, she left the lift as it came to a halt at her floor. Luckily her corridor was deserted as well and she quickly unlocked her door, removing the magical wards as well, and went in, locking the door shut behind her.

Before she could reach the switch to turn on the lights however, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Gasping aloud, she cast the Shield Charm on instinct. A flash of light and her captor was hurled a few feet away, crashing against the wall and landing soundly in an untidy heap.

"Oh fuck!" the man yelled, and she gasped again turning on the lights, an ugly feeling of guilt engulfing her.

"Draco…?"

"Hey," replied the blond sheepishly as he picked himself up, rubbing his left shoulder. "Welcome home," he beamed, wincing a little as he came forward.

"Sorry! But, you shouldn't-"

"-jump on you like that, right." he laughed as he crossed the last few paces and came to a halt in front of her. "Permission to hug?" he asked, opening his arms wide, smiling as his eyes took her in.

She nodded, trying to add a smile or even feel half as cheerful as him. Draco pulled her into his arms, sighing contently as he placed a kiss briefly on her shoulder before he murmured a soft 'I missed you' in her ear.

But all she could feel was guilt, as her arms slowly wrapped around him. How could she tell him that the only times she had thought about him in the past few days were ones when she had been berating herself for her emotional infidelity… She was not betraying him, was she? She knew she was not going back to Ron, her heart twisted painfully at the thought. She was just- full of regrets for the life she had lost… Did that count as a betrayal?

Draco pulled away, his brows scrunched. "Hey, you okay?" he asked concerned, and she somehow managed to pull herself together, even attempted a smile.

"Yes, just tired. It's been a long day," she replied, tucking her locks behind her ears and moving away to the couch quickly.

Draco followed her and proceeded to take a seat next to her. He turned to his left, pulling and folding one leg on the couch, facing her properly. He sat watching her for a while before he took one of her hands in his. "You've been crazy busy, I guess…" he added, the hurt wasn't masked very well.

Hermione didn't know if it was intentional but it didn't help how she was feeling. She had not written to him, and she had sure not missed him like she ought to have. It made her feel uncomfortable.

"I- yes… there was so much to do," she replied in a fake cheerful voice, unable to take her eyes off their entwined fingers, surprised to find no freckles on the skin before catching herself, infuriated.

Draco scooted closer until his knees touched hers. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around her nape, his thumbs tracing her cheeks, tugging a little until she was forced to meet his eyes.

"You… missed me too, didn't you?" he asked longingly, leaving Hermione conflicted and guilt-torn. She placed her hand over his and nodded again.

"I- I did, Draco. It's just that-"

"-you were home, and you were too busy with your family to miss me properly?" he asked innocently, hopefully even.

Home. Family. The words conjured an image in her brain she could not shake away and she could only manage a small 'yeah' as she looked away. "Sorry…"

"It's okay," he replied, tugging her just a bit closer, rubbing his thumb tenderly over her cheek. "I'm not very happy. But you are back with me now.

That's all that matters," he shrugged. "And it was just five days, so I shouldn't be so greedy," he added lightheartedly.

"Draco- I," she sighed, unable to figure how to explain without hurting him. He was behaving exactly as a boyfriend was expected to; she was the one who was struggling with her feelings here. Perhaps a night alone was what she needed- time to set her brain straight, time to sort out her emotions, get back to the present- with Draco. She met his eyes and found him looking at her lips, breathing deeply. Slowly, his lips found hers as his fingers held the back of her head, angling her face.

Tired and weary, she let him take control. She closed her eyes, obliging as his tongue pleaded entrance and he pulled her onto his lap. She heard a soft moan and reciprocated in a dazed way as her emotionally and physically exhausted body limped over his and an arm wrapped around her waist. She sighed softly as blurry images began to take shape in her mind while a soft pair of lips found their way to just below her ear, touching the exceptionally sensitive skin near her hairline. The images were getting sharper now- golden- eyelashes, pale skin peppered with an uncountable number of freckles, a fringe that hung almost over his eyes... She gripped him back harder, craving the closeness. There was a murmur and his lips latched onto her neck, sucking hard before moving to the hollow of her throat and she moaned, threading her fingers into his hair as the images grew clearer...coppery red that glinted in the sunlight… Coppery… red… fiery….

She gasped at the same time she pushed him away, forcing the man off as she untangled herself from his embrace in horror.

No…

As the images behind her eyelids faded into reality, she noticed with horrified realisation that Draco was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, looking at her- hurt marked clearly on his features. She broke down then. Sinking down on the carpet, and pulling her legs up, she buried her face in her knees as loud sobs wracked her body.

…

Draco had been waiting for her return for hours, hoping to surprise her with his presence. He had tried convincing himself that he wasn't scared that she'd not return at all, that she'd go back to Weasley...

But she did and yet, even in that short while, every moment with Hermione was making it clear that the girl who had gone to visit her family five days ago had not returned. He noticed she looked tired, her hair was tied in a rough bun, frizzled curls framed her face. She wore no makeup and wasn't carrying her bag. He wanted to ask a lot of questions but he held himself back, choosing instead to focus on the fact that she had returned home, returned to him.

He ignored the fear mounting in him at her halting answers, the way she seemed to look away, choosing instead to tell himself that she was only tired.

And then she walked into his embrace and he released a huge sigh of relief. He'd kissed her a little more insistently than usual, but she hadn't seemed to mind. Instead, she moaned softly and a thrill ran down his spine. Mine, he muttered quietly to himself. Mine... mine, he repeated fervently, silently, as his lips moved possessively on hers. Her body was flushed against his as he moved his lips to a spot behind her ear, peppering kisses before venturing to her nape. He sucked harder, arm wrapped possessively around her waist. His lips moved to the hollow of her throat as her fingers threaded in his hair and she released a sigh. Mine, MINE his heart repeated and then suddenly- she gasped aloud and pushed him off, flailing her arms she moved away as if -horrified at his touch...

Her reaction was baffling, but somewhere deep down, it was proof that his instincts and fears had been right all along. Her reaction was like a punch in the gut. Rage like never before threatened to engulf him. His worst fears had come true- Ron Weasley was back and had claimed what had always been his, to begin with, leaving Draco with nothing.

He looked away as she sobbed, unable to hide his hurt and the anger. A vile part of him, one that he had hoped to have buried forever, rose to the surface. Hermione had no right to go back- it screamed inside him and Draco struggled to force the monster to go back to sleep.

He longed to get back to his flat, away from Hermione. He'd always known this was coming- it was just a matter of time. And now the moment, he'd feared the most had arrived. He knew he'd have to walk away, let her go...he glanced once at her hunched form and his heart ached with jealousy and longing. Ron Weasley had walked away, he no longer had the right to Hermione. He, Draco, would not let him. Hermione loved him too, didn't she? She ought to. They had been friends for years now- he had been there for her when no one else had. He had earned the right.

But the nagging fear was not done torturing him and reared its ugly head again- what if Hermione didn't want Draco anymore? He willed the thought away. No. It couldn't be. Slowly, carefully he lowered himself next to her, maintaining a space between them.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he sighed.

Her soft whimpers paused and she turned slightly to look at him with bloodshot eyes before she looked away and sniffed. "N-no, Draco… I'm sorry…" she said in a quiet voice.

Draco ached to hold her but refrained. He knew his heart wasn't strong enough to take another rejection.

"I should probably leave now?" he stated, not sure if she'd bother to reply but delaying from picking himself up in the hope that she'd stop him.

"Draco?" she called after what he felt was an agonisingly long time. "My- my Mum- she's been hospitalised," she finished with much difficulty. Later that night, Draco would be ashamed of how his heart cheered at her declaration, but right then, he relaxed and scooted closer to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Hermione didn't push him away but didn't make the effort to snuggle closer either. Rid of his initial fears, however, Draco let it slide as she told him about her mother's sudden ill-health.

A small velvet box, stuffed deep inside his pocket waited for him to pick up his courage, but Draco failed.

….

Hermione woke at the crack of dawn, although having barely slept the previous night. She gazed through her window as hues of blue turned pink and red in the far horizon, fearing what the new day would bring to her life. She was tired of sorting out her emotions and fears, exhausted filtering the right from the wrong. But most of all, she was drained to the bone trying to rid her brain and heart of Ron's memories. Guilt kicked in at the memory of the previous night- she wasn't even sure what her subconscious wanted- or whom, or perhaps she did but didn't want to acknowledge it.

Her wand buzzed on the dresser, signalling that she had already wasted all the free time she had. Now it was time to go back to the real world, to her work- to Draco…

She pulled herself up with more determination than she felt, mentally sorting through all the tangible things that needed her attention more than her heart. Absentmindedly she folded the wrinkled duvet before putting on her slippers at the foot of the bed, and mechanically going through the mundane task of making her bed by hand. Her Mum came first, she decided while she fluffed her pillows, and if that meant seeing Ro- him again, she'd do it, for the last time. Then life would have to go back the way it was before the wedding. Ron had walked away and that would remain a fact, and no matter how hard her heart wanted to change the past, it couldn't be done. The dull, persistent ache inside intensified but she ignored it. Instead, she pulled out a fresh set of work clothes and laid them on the bed and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle to boil. She couldn't betray Draco; whatever life had thrown her way, this was not his fault and she had no right to push him away. She walked into the bath and picked up her toothbrush, making fleeting eye contact with her reflection before looking away quickly. Her work was a priority, and the more she focused on it the saner she'd remain.

She continued with her morning chores, trying to get back into the familiar rhythm. Finally, she undressed and stepped under the shower, savouring the way the spray pricked the skin on her back, the gentle sound of cascading water helping in its own way to harden her exterior. Her heart and old wounds had been scratched raw again, but she'd be damned if she let anyone see them, especially Ro- him. She turned around, picked up her loofah, rubbing it over her skin a little more roughly than necessary, relishing the physical tinge while she braced herself to sort through the pile load of work she'd have to face after her extended leave from work.

At last, showered and dressed, she stood in front of her dresser to take herself in, still avoiding looking directly into her reflection's eyes. And then she noticed it, her hour-long self-motivation taking a hit as everything she was struggling to run away from hit her square in the face...

Her hand shook searching for her wand, the glamour incantation stuck like a lump in her throat as she looked horrified at the deep red mark on her neck, remembering who had put it there. She looked directly into the eyes of her mirror-self then, noticing in the image that stared back at her, the truth that she was trying her level best to deny- she was still in love with Ron...

…..

The sky was steadily becoming overcast, the gusty wind bearing the hope of rain when Ron reached the hospital gate and found Hermione already waiting for him. They greeted each other with a nod, her eyes taking him in, brows scrunching a little at his dark glasses.

"Dad should have arrived already," she stated without preamble, glancing a quick look at her watch, her stance utterly professional and in control. Any and all traces of the girl he had dropped home the previous night was gone.

"Where are we supposed to met him?" he asked, voice composed. Hidden behind his dark glasses, he noticed the way her simple summer dress hugged her body, how the wind ruffled her long locks, how the hem of the pale blue dress flapped around her knees. He looked away before his heart betrayed him again.

"In the lobby," she replied, pulling out a flip phone from the tiny clutch she was carrying. "I'll check with him," she told him as she punched in a few numbers.

Against his better judgement, Ron found himself watching her while she was engrossed in the little muggle device. "Dad?" she spoke into the mouthpiece, covering her free ear to cut out the noise of people around them perhaps, "Yes, I- we are here. Where are you? Oh! I- yes- we'll wait for you. Alright. See you."

She hung up looking downright at unease. "We are early. The visitors are allowed at six not five-thirty."

"Oh?" Ron had no clue how they were to spend an extra thirty minutes all by themselves. He looked up at the overcast sky, uncomfortably removing his glasses, hoping fervently that she wouldn't notice the dark circles or the bags under his eyes before reminding himself that even if she did- she wouldn't care.

"He'll be here soon. Asked us to wait in the cafeteria."

"Alright then," he gestured wordlessly and they walked inside, side by side. With his height as an advantage, he noticed how in-control her gait was. Whatever little of his Hermione he'd seen the previous night, was gone.

They reached the cafeteria, took a table next to an open window, and ordered coffee, the air around them stifling despite the pleasant breeze. He fidgeted with his glasses and Hermione gave him a very polite, strained and customary smile before averting her eyes to look around.

"I'm gonna join back soon," he said all of a sudden, surprising himself. She turned her head and caught his eyes. For a moment, it felt like she was observing him carefully, taking in his eyes and face but then she shrugged a little, making him feel like an idiot. She wasn't interested in anything about him- obviously.

"Good for you."

He was saved from acknowledging her emotionless comment as the waitress arrived with their order.

"I've heard you are being awarded a second Order of Merlin," she commented, sipping on her hot drink.

"Yeah," he managed with difficulty.

"You must be so proud." This time around, the bitterness was more evident before she cleared her throat to speak again. "Congratulations," she added politely.

"Told them I don't need it, -didn't want it," he replied with a gruff, gripping his cup harder than intended, his skin burning.

"I'm sure they will award you nonetheless. After all, you've put so much into your work, achieved what you truly wanted." Her tone was polite; the words weren't.

"Mum sent you your bag," he stated after a while. He dug out a shrunk travel bag and placed it on the table. She took it muttering a small thanks.

He glanced at his watch, willing it to be six already but painfully realised that they still had fifteen minutes to wait. His cup was empty and hers was too. Pondering whether ordering another round of beverages would make the stifling tension between them bearable he looked up only to notice how her locks blew in the breeze from the window. He was briefly hypnotized by the small fluttering movements of her hair until the skin at her nape was exposed, revealing a glamour charm that was definitely running out its course, a red mark slowly becoming more prominent, staring back at him, becoming darker, contrasting sharply with the paleness of her skin…

…

Hermione wanted to leave. Seeing him again was shaking her resolve and she couldn't have it that way. She had prepared herself to be indifferent once again, pretend this was just a professional meeting and nothing more. But her heart wouldn't have it. She was hurting and despite her better judgement, she wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her...

She looked up, working up words to tear him apart and met his eyes, and for a moment she was shocked to find his mask dropping- an array of emotions playing out in his eyes that seemed to have had very little sleep- shock, hurt, betrayal, anger and last, hopelessness. Ron slammed his glasses back on, picked up his long frame somewhat clumsily before he straightened himself, looming over her.

"I- I gotta go," he provided in a voice so emotionless that it tore through her heart. He turned away, took a few steps and then paused while she remained seated, still trying to make sense of the sudden change in him. He walked away to the billing counter, and when she'd assumed he'd walk away, he turned and covered the few paces separating them, coming to a sudden halt next to her.

"You-you might want to re- redo the charm," he choked out before turning around and walking away, his quick, long strides taking him away from her.

She had finally achieved what she wanted perhaps, she reckoned as she sat shocked- hurt him as much as he had hurt her…