Chapter 1.

Dear Hermione,

This is the hardest letter I have ever had to write, but I really have no choice. I have to break up with you. I don't want to, but I need space. This relationship is getting far to serious but I'm not sure of how much of a future we have.

Being away from you has given me a chance to sort out my priorities and given me the chance to access my goals again. This is a whole new world for me, and even though it kills me to say this to you, I have decided to stay here indefinitely.

I am sorry.

Send my love to Harry.

Ronald Weasley.

Hermione stared at the letter that Ginny had just given her, trying to sort out her immediate feelings. This was near impossible however, as they tangled through her with as much mess as a basketful of colored string.

She was hurt, that was for sure. Actually, hurt was quite inadequate to describe her emotions. Hermione thought that devastated was a much more appropriate word. She felt as if Ron had plunged a knife into her heart, and then sprayed vinegar at her, while he kicked her chest.

"Is this what I think it is?" Hermione asked Ginny in a voice devoid of any emotion.

"Yes," Ginny answered sadly, not looking at Hermione, but at her rather fancily clad feet.

"Why?" Hermione replied simply, tear staring to well up in her eyes, "why, would he do this to me? Why didn't he speak to me himself, if she was so unhappy?"

"Hermione…"Ginny said, trying to pull her into a hug, but Hermione pushed her away. "This is Ron we're talking about. He's clueless. Oh, God, I wish he wasn't making me do this. It isn't fair for either of us. I wish…Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I just thought it would be better for me to deliver this letter rather then you just getting it in the mail."

"That's alright Ginny. It's not you who's breaking my heart."

"You know, it is alright to cry?"

At this Hermione lost control. Breaking into loud sobs she collapsed onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, Ginny following quickly after her.

"Shhh…Its ok."

"N-no! It's n-not ok! Ron doesn't love m-me anymore! What else c-can matter?"

Ginny seemed lost for a moment, before replying earnestly, "remember sweetie, after ever rain storm there is a rainbow."

"Ginny." Hermione said, looking her straight in the eye, tears dripping slowly down her face. "If y-you believe that, then y-you are even more naïve t-then I was before this w-whole ordeal."

Ginny looked helplessly at Hermione feeling guiltier then she ever had in her entire life. Why was her brother being such a prat and causing Hermione so much extra pain? It didn't seem fair. Especially since Ginny had the all so unpleasant duty of delivering the letter in all its nasty glory.

As Hermione continued to sob, Ginny rummaged through her kitchen and discovered a pint of Choc-chip ice-cream as well as several boxes of chocolate frogs.

"He'll come to his senses." She told Hermione wisely, giving her a huge chunk of chocolate. "He'd have to be crazy to give up such an amazing girl."

"Thanks," muttered Hermione, her tears drying up as the chocolate worked its magic, "I only wish I could believe that more."

"He will! Trust me."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"That's Ginny…you always know what to say. You're right. This is obviously just another silly phase. Remember how he used to tease me endlessly, just because he liked me. I'm sure this is something silly like that."

"That's my girl!" Ginny cried happily, mopping up Hermione's tears, "now, lets see about watching some Boy-hating movies?"

Hermione nodded weakly, a smile spreading across her face. Ginny was right. This was just a phase.

The next morning Hermione struggled out of bed, and looked around her messy apartment with dissatisfaction. She hated things being unorganized, and wished that Ginny hadn't talked her into the second tub of ice cream.

Her apartment was large and spacious, with plain, yet sophisticated, cream wallpaper. Wooden furniture was artfully scattered about the room, as well as a large beige couch that looked like a peaceful island surrounded by a sea of polished wood floor. Scowling, Hermione stopped to adjust a beautiful (and very expensive) painting depicting a violin that her old roommate Parvati Patil, a well-known artist, had sold her.

Hermione's job at the Ministry paid very well, especially now she had been promoted to Assistant Minister in the Department for International Relations. With her perfect French, Italian and German, Hermione had been just right for the job. She also had a wide knowledge of different countries as well as a wide range of references and alliances from past careers. It was rumored that she might well be the youngest International Minister ever, and her co-workers all adored her, leaving no room for jealousy and spite. Her only problem was her almost obsessive desire to have things perfect.

Marching into the Kitchen, Hermione picked up at least a dozen empty chocolate wrappers and started to brew some coffee in the muggle cappuccino machine that her parents had insisted on buying her as a house-warming present, two years ago when she had moved in.

When she was satisfied with the amount of caffeine swimming about her body, Hermione began to reflect on the issue that had been chasing through her brain the entire night.

After much deliberation she came to a final conclusion.

Ron was just confused.

It was obvious that they were meant to be together…Seriously; her mother had already begun to quiz her on the wedding china they might prefer. Everyone knew that they fought, and everybody knew that it was all in good humor…

But he's never actually broken up with me before…thought Hermione suddenly, feeling the first flash of doubt…But…well, maybe its Ron's way of telling me he loves me. That's it! He just didn't see me so he assumed his love wasn't real.

Hermione nodded, satisfied with her decision. Ron still loved her, but the separation was messing with his head.

All the same…she consumed another four chocolate frogs before venturing out to work. All the time, a little thought lingering at the back of her mind…

I'm sure if Ron could just see me, everything would work out ok.

~*~

Ginny decided that it would be for the best to pay a mid-afternoon visit to her newly single friend. She wasn't exactly sure what Hermione was feeling right now, and she wasn't very keen on leaving her alone, only to discover a week later that Hermione had turned into a Alcoholic-Chocolaholic-Emotional-Wreckage mess.

It didn't take long for her to Apparate to the small street in Aylesbury where Hermione lived. It was quite a pretty area, covered with tall, sweeping trees and the sorts of corner shops where kids would spend their lives, saving up enough for a single gobstopper.

Across the road from the apartment lay a sweet, little park, filled with toddlers enjoying the sunshine, as their frazzled parents huddled together in small support groups, plotting child care techniques and bragging about the physical strength of their tiny three-year olds.

Hermione's flat was part of an ancient block, built from crumbling stone and wrought iron fencing. Hers was on the very top floor, with a small Terrance garden and separate balcony. Overall Hermione was very well situated, in the sort of neighborhood that is filled with younger people, as well as several singletons, delighting in their new ageism.

Pushing open the heavy glass doors that blocked the crisp wind from chilling the already freezing flats, Ginny wandered into the lobby, then after casting a fugitive glance around, Apparated onto the top floor.

Strolling down the corridor, then knocking on Hermione's front door, Ginny soon became impatient when nobody answered.

"Hermione?" She called loudly, knocking harder. It wasn't like Hermione to be at work at this time in the afternoon. Usually she could be found in her office at the break of dawn, or at midnight. It was hard keeping up to the time as it changed constantly between countries, so Hermione tended to keep one very unusual schedule that involved an afternoon visit to her flat.

"Herm?" Ginny yelled, trying to peer through the peephole, before a sudden voice made her jump.

"Hello?" said the Woman next-door, her dumpy figure wrapped tightly in a pink cardigan.

"Um…Hi." Said Ginny, smiling painfully.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"No…well, yes. It's just that my, um, cousin, Hermione is, uh, needed for a drastic, uh, family emergency! Yes. That's it. A, uh, big problem with her uncle. Yup."

"Oh, no!" cried Next-Door-Woman, tossing her mousy-brown hair as Ginny nodded earnestly, eyes opened as wide as she could manage.

"Yes…"

"Well, usually I wouldn't do this, but as this is an emergency… Hermione left earlier this morning for work. I know, because she dropped in like usual to return my cat. You see, it always manages to get into her apartment…we still haven't figured it out, but Hermione said she didn't mind, and usually drops him off on her way to work. The only thing was she came back about an hour later."

"Well, I'm not the one to pry, but a whole lot of banging and bashing was coming from her flat, so I decided to maybe drop in and see what all the fuss was about. Anyway, the second I was knocking, the girl came barging out carrying a bunch of suitcases…"

"No!"

"Yes! So I asked her where she was going, and she said she had some pressing business in London, and would I mind watering her plants…look! She even left her key!"

"Well, I hate to interrupt, but my fathers medication is in that apartment, and unless he takes it soon, there will be hell to pay! Hermione was supposed to turn up at the hospital…" Ginny lied smoothly, as the nosy, harassed looking woman nodded quickly, and handed her the keys, beaming at her part in this big drama. "Thank you." Ginny added solemnly, "You have helped a great deal…"

"No prob-"

But Ginny had already barged into the apartment, and hurried though looking about in dismay as she noticed several things Hermione could not do without were missing.

A rustle of paper drew her attention, and she turned to the desk, before groaning and picking up the note.

To Ginny or Harry- whoever finds this first.

I refuse to believe that Ron is truly done with me. There is only one logical explanation; that all this freedom had muddled his brain.

So dear friends, I am off to London to discover where Ron is, and to figure out what our future is together.

Don't try to contact me; I'll be back in a few days, with Ron by my side, just as it is supposed to be.

Love always,

Hermione.

Ginny groaned in dismay. Obviously Hermione was not the sort to let sleeping dogs lie.

Oh dear, better watch out London, for in hours you are going to be taken over by Hurricane-Hermione.

~*~

Harry Potter glanced around the restaurant trying to spy his date for the evening. It wasn't like his friend, Ginny to stand him up, but she was already fifteen minutes late and for someone so punctual, this definitely presented something quite drastic.

Scowling at his napkin, Harry glared around the busy Italian restaurant almost daring someone to catch his eye. Yes, Harry was most definitely in the mood for a good tantrum.

Today hadn't exactly been a good day. First off, he had drastically over slept causing himself to be late for one of his early morning practices. When he was twenty-three, after a good deal of screwed up careers, Harry had been recruited as the seeker for Puddlemere United. It was the perfect antidote for his rapidly rising boredom. So far he had concluded that this was the ultimate job for him. Playing professional Quiddich had always been a special dream of his, one he had lived out last year after being selected for the English cup team . . . the very same team that made it to the World Cup, only to narrowly lose to France, home to the best beaters Quiddich had ever seen. Missing practice was a big deal to Harry- he still felt as if he was dreaming, and a short sharp wake-up call was definitely not appreciated.

Not only did Harry miss practice, but he managed to sprain his wrist while diving for the snitch. One might assume that he could quickly charm it better, but unfortunately enough, sprains are one of the few maladies that magic is not equipped to heal. Like Madam Pomfrey had always quoted, "At least with a break, there's something there to charm. With a sprain, how the heck do you know where to point the wand!"

So poor Harry had suffered all day with a painful arm, and a major lack of sleep. Not only that, but he had to suffer the weeks grocery shopping, and although he doubted anyone would believe him, Harry firmly believed that canned goods were the vicious, evil, scum of the earth, plotting to kill them all . . .he always half expected to hear a little, "mwahahahahha" whenever he marched down the tin aisle. Not that he could explain it. It was just something he thought.

"Hi, Harry!" Cried a breathless voice, jerking him from his thoughts.

Glancing up, he met the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley, as she leaned over and hugged a stitch in her side.

"I'm so sorry! Have you been waiting long?"

"Just . . . Oh, it doesn't matter," Harry jumped up and helped her into her seat, "what's up? You look like you've just run a marathon."

"You could say that." Ginny replied mildly, settling down into a seat and picking up the menu. "Lets just say we have one huge Hermione-and-Ron sized problem."

"So she got the letter?" Harry questioned, anxiously leaning forward.

"Yes- What! You knew about it before, and you never told me! Geez, Harry, I could've used at least a bit of help. Would you believe that the Git actually made me give it to her? Oh, Harry, you should've seen her face. He broke her heart you know."

"I know," said Harry seriously, "when he told me he was considering doing this to her, I never believed her actually would. I mean, its Ron and Hermione! I thought they were going to get hitched soon. It's kind of a wake-up call. If they can't make it, what chance do the rest of us have?"

"I know. Look, this wasn't what I need to discuss right now. We have bigger fish to fry."

"Really? Can it wait a few minutes? I think we need to order, the waiter keeps glaring at me as if I'm just here for the free bread-sticks."

"Gotcha," Ginny answered as she swiftly signaled the waiter. The two friends had been coming to this restaurant for years, ever since they had started off as flat mates in this district, so both of them knew the workings of the restaurant pretty well.

"What would you like this evening?" requested the waiter poshly, when he finally reached there table.

Harry studied the menu for a minute longer, then turned back to the waiter. "Do you have any specials this evening?"

"We certainly do," answered the waiter mechanically, "we have fresh spaghetti, served with a rich, creamy, wine sauce- this meal is also made with special herbs and the best mushrooms."

"Sounds great!" Ginny answered enthusiastically. She adored any sort of pasta, whether it be bolognaise of simple tomato paste.

"Any others?" Added Harry hopefully. Spaghetti was a prime meal at the Dursleys. A time that Harry would prefer to forget.

"Certainly, Sir. We also have Pesto Genovese, served with a fresh salad with beautifully marinated chicken sprinkled throughout."

"Hmm . . ." Harry mumbled, before saying politely, "I might just have a small Tomato and Basil Pizza. Would you like any entrees, Ginny?"

"Certainly, Harry. May we also have a serving of Herb bread, as well as two garden salads with the house dressing?"

Harry grinned at Ginny as the waiter took their orders down, and hurried off efficiently. Reaching over, he took her hand over the tablecloth.

"Why, Ginny! I didn't know that you remembered my side dish of choice?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and playfully swatted Harry's hand away. "I only lived with you for four years! Geez, I know what bloody laundry detergent you use!"

"Glad to see a woman who still knows the back end of a washing machine from a bicycle. Feminist movement gone out? Hmm?"

"Sexist Pig."

"I try."

Ginny could barely remember when Harry and she had become friends. Looking back, she guessed that it must have occurred when Ron and Hermione had started to go out, pushing the two of them into a much closer proximity.

No longer having to study her crush from afar, Ginny finally found she no longer thought of him as her crush, but as her friend. Things had only gotten better when school finished. Harry had been living in his flat for a year and was finding himself struggling to make the monthly payments. Ginny had been the solution, as her first job had been handed to her on a silver platter. She had been wandering down the street, wearing one of the gowns she had designed herself (being poor meant lots of handmade clothes, and Ginny had been making and designing since the day she had learnt to sew) when a rich Boutique manager had spotted her, and introduced herself as Claudia Crandle.

Claudia had immediately expressed an interest in her robe, declaring that the design was unique and fashionable. She had also asked Ginny whom the manufacturer was, saying that this sort of garment could do wonders for the store image, which they were gradually trying to improve. Thus Ginny had begun to sell her robes. Years later, thing were going wonderfully, and Ginny was even considering opening a clothes store devoted entirely to her collection, 'Gin'n'tonic'.

So Ginny had moved in with Harry, and although she moved out four years later, their friendship had been cemented.

"So what's this major problem?" Harry asked thickly, interrupting her thoughts.

"Its about Hermione," Ginny answered, fiddling with her napkin.

"Worse then Ron breaking up with her?"

"Much worse."

"Well? Going to tell?"

Ginny took a deep breath and swigged down some wine. "The thing is, I went 'round to her apartment this afternoon - you know- just to see if she was alright."

"Let me guess- she was a mess? Bawling?

"Worse. She's gone."

"What!" cried Harry, accidentally spitting out some basil. "What do you mean she gone? Where the hell would she go? Oh lord, don't tell me she suicidal?!"

"Settle down, Harry. What I meant to say is that she's gone to London. She's chasing after Ron."

"No. She can't. He's not ready to see her yet . . . he, uh, he has issues."

Ginny stared at him. "Harold James Potter. Do you know something that I don't?"

"Look . . . I'm not supposed to tell you this- if Ron found out he would kill me! Lets just say that it's not good. Not good at all."

"Harry, if you don't tell me, I swear I will scream."

"All right!" He cried urgently, glancing swiftly around. "Come here though- I can't risk anyone else hearing this."

Ginny leaned in closer, and then gasped in shock at what he indulged to her . . .