A/N: Maybe this has been done and is cliché yada, yada, yada but I don't care. I have a twist I haven't seen in other stories like this. I'm sure it's been done but I haven't seen it.

This was slightly, slightly inspired by the song "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine, and slight HBP spoiler in the first paragraph. The rest of the story is fine.

One thing you have to understand, or nothing else I'm going to tell you will be as amazing and unexpected as it undoubtedly is: To the wizarding world Hermione Granger was dead. She had disappeared in the midst of our search for the Horocruxes never to be seen or heard from again. It devastated everyone, but, and I sound conceited here, it hurt me most of all. Hermione and I had recently admitted our 'feelings' for each other. Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do in a time of war but we did. And considering what happened I'm glad we did it. I think that's all the background you need…oh yeah, who am I? I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. And this is my story.

Five years after the defeat of Voldemort and the disappearance of Hermione...

"Ron!"

I sighed, but plastered on a large smile as I strode into my very pregnant sister's bedroom.

"I want eggnog." Ginny said flatly.

"Ok." I said, pulling out my wand. "One eggnog, coming right--"

"No!" Ginny shouted. "You're absolute rubbish and conjuring things. I'll be sick for weeks…even more sick than I am now!"

"Ok." I said again. "I'll just go and get mum to conjure you some."

"No!" Ginny shouted again. "If mum conjures it she'll want to come over. And if mum comes over she'll start comparing her pregnancies to mine. And if mum starts comparing her pregnancies to mine she'll start comparing the…the…the night her children were conceived to the night my child was."

By this point I had clapped my hands over my ears, refusing to hear any more. Hesitantly I lowered them. "So what should I do?" I asked.

"Go to the muggle store. They should have some." Ginny said breezily, opening a drawer and throwing some muggle money at me.

I held the paper bills at an arm's length. "Ginny, wouldn't Harry be better at this than me?"

"Harry's already doing something for me. Come on Ron, it's almost Christmas and I want eggnog!"

I sighed. "Fine. But if all this goes horribly wrong it's your fault."

I made my way out of the flat and into muggle London lost in thought. I wish I could get pregnant. Then I could make outrageous demands for food and people would do it for me just because of 'hormones' and 'cravings'. And another thing. Ginny was bloody twenty-one years old. That's way too young for her to be pregnant. A better age would have been…well…never.

Finally I arrived at the store. I walked up to the doors and they slid open automatically. My jaw dropped. Was Ginny quite sure this was a muggle store? I mean…the doors…amazing! Dear Merlin I'm turning into my father.

Shaking my head firmly I entered the store. Christmas carols were blaring from speakers located at six-foot intervals. I wandered around aimlessly, realizing I had no idea where the eggnog would be kept. Suddenly a blast of cold air hit me out of nowhere. I glanced up at the sign suspended from the ceiling.

Frozen Foods

Frozen foods? What the hell? I walked down the aisle looking through the clear doors into their frosty interiors. There were boxes upon boxes with pictures showing steaming entrees. But I didn't understand…frozen? But the boxes showed warm foods… What a dirty trick! Make the muggles think they're getting warm, delicious food when in reality it's cold and hard as a rock. This must be muggle baiting. I'll have to tell dad about it next time I see him. I pressed my nose against the glass. I could see why the muggles were fooled. That steak did look good.

"May I help you sir?"

I pulled myself away from the glass to face a middle-aged man in a red vest and a Santa hat looking at me like I was a complete nutter.

"Uh, yes." I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "Where is your eggnog?"

The man pointed to his left. "Over there, near the milk. Happy shopping."

"Thank you sir." I said stiffly, and marched off in the direction the man told me. I turned the corner and saw a woman standing in front of a mass of cartons. All I could see was the back of her head, which was consumed by a mess of very bushy brown hair. A mess of very familiar, very bushy brown hair.

It couldn't be…everyone said she was dead. But I never believed it for a second did I? She wouldn't just leave me like that. Wait Ron, don't get your hopes up. She's not the only person in the world with hair like that.

The woman turned around to add something to her metal cage on wheels.

It was her.

"Hermione!" I yelled, bounding towards her, arms outstretched for a hug.

For once in her life Hermione looked completely dumbfounded. Not for long though. Soon she had whipped out a small bottle, brandishing it at me like a wand.

"Don't touch me you rapist!" She said threateningly. She noticed my curious glance at the bottle. "Pepper spray." She explained. "How many other women have used it on you? A fair few I'm guessing."

"Hermione?" I said weakly, standing five feet from her. "Hermione, don't you recognize me? It's me! It's Ron!"

"Obviously you are the one who doesn't recognize me…Ron is it? My name isn't Hermione."

"Yes it is." I argued. Maybe someone could look like Hermione, but only the real Hermione could have that spark in her eye when we were about to row like this.

"No it's bloody not!" Hermione hissed at me, looking around at our fellow shoppers who were beginning to stare.

"Hermione!" I gasped. "You said 'bloody'!"

"Stop calling me that!"

"What should I call you then?" I asked warily, knowing that soon Hermione would abandon the bottle she was still holding out and resort to using her wand, muggles be damned.

"Come here." Hermione whispered, putting the bottle back in her purse.

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"I said, come here!" Hermione said, trying hard to keep her voice soft.

Obediently I walked towards her.

"That's close enough!" Hermione said quickly when I was an arm's length away. Then she continued loudly, "Only joking Ron, of course, how have you been?"

"A lot better now that I've found you." I said honestly. "I've missed you so much."

"Shut up you idiot." Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I only said that to make everyone stop staring. Now we just have to talk for a few minutes so no one suspects anything."

I noticed the glint of a gold chain when she craned her neck to make sure the crowd gathered around us was dispersing. I knew that chain.

"Erm…ma'am?" I asked and she turned around. "Can I prove that I know you?"

She snorted and said, "Well we have a few minutes. Go ahead, entertain me."

"The necklace you're wearing. It has a gold charm on it that's a heart with the initials HGRW around it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "But I always wear it under my shirt…how did you know…?"

"I gave it to you." I said firmly. "Five years ago. For your birthday."

"F-five years ago?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Yes." I replied. "Six months before you disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Hermione breathed.

"Yes." I said, slightly frustrated that she felt the need to repeat everything I said. "But—"

"Listen….Robert? Ron. Ron, this goes against my better judgment but let's go somewhere we can sit down and talk about this." Hermione said, leading me out of the store and onto the sidewalk.

We walked in silence for a few moments before Hermione abruptly broke it. "I guess I need to tell you something. My memory only goes back to five years ago when I woke up in a hospital bed in Ireland. I've been trying to remember something…anything about my past for the longest time but to no avail. It hurts. I thought my family must have not liked me, that I must have had no friends because it seemed like no one was looking for me. And now you show up out of the blue claiming you knew me…well if you're a rapist, as I still suspect, just rape me and get it over with. Don't get my hopes up like this."

I stopped and Hermione turned to look at me. "First off. I'm not a rapist." I said plainly. "Second off, I'm sorry to have to tell you this…again. But your parents, the only family you had, are dead. Death Eaters killed them. Third off, don't think for a moment your friends and I didn't care for you. We've been searching for you for the past five years."

"Death Eaters?" Hermione said, confused.

"Yes, you know, Voldemort's supporters." I said slowly. Surely she still knew…

"Voldemort?" Hermione asked again, the confused look on her face becoming more prominent.

"Yes. Voldemort. You-know-who. He-who-must-not-be-named. The most evil wizard of all time!" I said, slightly panicky. If nothing else she had to remember…

"Wizard?" Hermione had never looked more lost or confused.

Oh bloody hell.

"Yes. Wizard. Just like me. Just like Harry. Just like Dumbledore. Not like you or Ginny, you're witches."

Instead of keeling over in a dead faint, or bursting out into uncontrollable giggles like I was expecting Hermione got the look she always got when she was dying to learn something new. "Prove it." She said simply.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"You heard me." She said. "If you're a wizard, which I doubt, take out your 'wand' and cast a 'spell'."

"I can't do it here." I said urgently. "The place is teeming with muggles! The Ministry would have my head!"

"Muggles?"

"Non-magic people."

"Ministry?"

"Of magic. That's where I work."

"Ministry of Magic? Oh now I've heard everything."

I glanced around desperately. Yes. St. Mungo's was around here. I could take her there.

"Do you still want me to prove it?" I asked, interrupting her tirade about my con-artistry.

"Yes." She said.

"Then follow me." I told her, making my way through the crowds.

"Ron, wait up!" She said, panting, just as I stopped in front of Purge and Dowse Ltd.

I quickly found the mannequin. "I need to prove to Hermione Granger she's a witch."

"You do realize you're talking to a mannequin." Hermione scoffed, but gasped when the mannequin nodded and beckoned us in.

"Come on." I said, grabbing her hand, and before she could protest, pulled her through the glass.

She gasped at the sight of Healers bustling around in lime green robes and the unfortunate wizards and witches who had shoddy spellwork bestowed upon them.

"Follow me." I said, leading her up the stairs to the tearoom.

"Ron." Hermione breathed from behind me. "Ron! The pictures are moving!"

"Of course they are." I said, holding the door to the tearoom open for her. "Pictures always move."

We sat at a table in silence. Hermione was perfectly content to simply gaze around at the other occupants of the room and I was perfectly content to gaze at her.

"What'll it be dears?" A plump waitress asked us with a smile.

"Two butterbeers." I said blandly, not looking at her.

Hermione shot me a glare. "Thank you very much ma'am." She told the woman with a genuine smile.

"Be nice to her." Hermione said sharply when the waitress was out of earshot.

"What? Are you the head of the Society for the Promotion of Waitress Welfare?" I asked, amused.

"No." Hermione said, flushed. "I am one."

"What?" I said thunderstruck.

"Yes, and I'm lucky to be one. Think about it. I have no proof of schooling, and let's face it, even if I did I wouldn't remember any of it. One of the nurses at the hospital had a sister who owns a restaurant. I work there." Hermione said, sounding slightly ashamed.

"B-but you were top of our class at Hogwarts!" I sputtered.

"I was top of the class?" Hermione said, eyes shining. "Is Hogwarts a wizard school?"

I nodded as the waitress set down our butterbeers.

"Thank you." Hermione and I chorused.

Hermione beamed at me. "Now what is this?" She asked, inspecting her bottle.

"It's butterbeer." I said. "You like it. Trust me."

Hermione took a sip and her smile grew even wider. "I do like it."

I laughed at her and was reminded strongly of the first time we had ever had a butterbeer together on our first trip to Hogsmeade.

"So we were friends in school?" Hermione asked, after draining her butterbeer.

"Best friends." I affirmed. "Us and Harry Potter. And then there was my sister, Ginny Weasley…well Ginny Potter now."

"She married the Harry bloke?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes and they're expecting their first baby in about a month." I said, silently swearing when I remembered the errand I was sent on. Oh well. Eggnog could wait.

"So you're Ron Weasley." She said pointing to me.

"Right." I nodded.

"Who am I?" She asked. "What's my name?"

"You're Hermione Jane Granger." I replied.

"Do you not have a middle name?" She asked curiously.

"Not one that I like." I mumbled. "It's Billus." I sighed.

Hermione smiled, very much like when I told her my middle name for the first time. "I like it." She said, patting my hand.

"Well thank you." I responded. "Then Harry's is James, and Ginny's, well it's really Ginevra Molly."

"So HGRW…" Hermione said absently, touching the small bump the charm made under her shirt. "Does that stand for Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley?"

"Yes." I whispered.

"And the heart…"

"We were in love."

"Oh." Hermione said softly. "Were or are?"

"It's up to you." I said, hoping against hope she would still have me.

"I'm so sorry Ron." Hermione said, tears beginning to form in her big brown eyes. "I'm married."

A/N: That's right! Married! Haha. I've never seen that before and I thought it'd be fun. And yes, I know Harry and Ron probably would have found her by now, but let's suspend our disbelief shall we?