A/N: Okay, this is my first R/H fic, and I'm a little nervous about how it's going to turn out. It's not beta-ed, but it's just an idea that's been in my head for forever. So please read and review and tell me what you think. I'm hoping to continue, but I want to see what the readers think first. The rating is just in case.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created by JK Rowling, only the plot is mine.

(… … … … …)

From the very beginning, I'd made mistakes. But he was one mistake I would gladly repeat. My first school year with him had rendered me a 'complete nightmare'. Then again, at the time, my days with Ron had always been difficult to get through. Ron Weasley was, and still is without a doubt, my first and only love. Unfortunately, he has a rather…different opinion on the matter.

Our friendship back at Hogwarts was one which was observed with the utmost scrutiny and confusion. One would simply have to start a sentence with, 'Ron and Hermione…' and people would at once assume that another one of our well-known arguments had taken place. People always assumed right.

I don't know how those debates ever got started, really. One minute I was berating him for his horrible homework habits, the next he was tossing insults at me as if I'd just offended his entire household, pets included. At that point in the argument, anybody walking by was fair game and was immediately hexed for interrupting.

Oddly enough, the only person who chose to associate himself with the two of us during these times was Harry. Harry James Potter is the only person I know who absolutely refuses to give up, whether it was based on a worldwide wizarding war against Voldemort, or even if it pended on a simple friendship.

His loyalty is one trait that I've always envied, to tell you the truth. No matter what he happened to be going through at the time, if ever I was upset about something, he would always be there to lend a listening ear. Even during our supposed seventh year, when we had decided not to attend in hopes of finding the remaining Horcruxes. Though Harry suffered emotionally with the loss of his mentor, Dumbledore, he was always there for me after Ron and I had had a spat.

Eventually, Ron and I finally discerned that our numerous arguments were taking a strenuous toll on Harry, as he hated the pressure of having to constantly choose sides. We both ultimately decided, after getting angry with each other just once more, that our bantering must stop, for Harry's sake.

This seemed to work wonders for Harry, as his spirits gradually lifted and he looked to once again be whole. The war continued to grow and rage, silently waiting for the climax, the point where Voldemort and Harry would meet for the very last time. Ron and I had been preparing him for hours at a time, trying to catch him off guard by randomly throwing spells while he wasn't paying attention.

The method appeared to be successful and when the time finally came, all of Voldemort's victims were finally avenged, and the world rejoiced. During all of this rejoicing, Harry, Ron and I each found love; Harry with Ginny, and I with Ron.

It looked like all would be well, and I admit that I was, for once, profoundly content with the situation. Ron and I slowly drifted closer in our relationship, and most people assumed that we would forever be together in love. People always assumed wrong.

Here was where I think their error rested. Most people, especially those who tended to assume things about our relationship, had not been through anything near what we had. The triumphs, joy, love and companionship, nor the dangers, grief, pain and loneliness; all these were emotions most people wouldn't even dream of experiencing within the time of scarcely a year. Yet we had, Harry, Ron and I.

For Harry, this was quite convenient, as it helped his relationship with Ginny increase and grow in love. Proof, you ask? Hardly three months after the war came to a close, the two became engaged. I remember waiting anxiously for Ron to ask me, hoping with all my heart that the question would come sometime soon.

Wrong. While our fighting had come to a halt over the long days of war, it had, in my opinion, only been patiently sifting in the backs of our minds, waiting for the opportune moment to return in full force.

And it did indeed return, armed and ready. Exactly two fortnights after Harry and Ginny's engagement, we had our first fight as a couple. I remember it being our four-month anniversary; Ron had promised we could celebrate. I had finally convinced my boss to let me off work early, after much groveling of course.

I arrived home early and immediately set to work on beautifying myself for Ron. It wasn't that I was overly concerned with my looks; I just wanted to look nice for the special occasion. My time was consumed with straightening the frizz out of my hair, and applying a bit of make-up to soften my appearance.

After getting ready and changing into a tight, v-neck, red dress, which Ginny had talked me into wearing, silly twit, I went about setting the atmosphere in the room. This suggestion came from one of my colleagues at the Daily Prophet, who said she's just read it in Witch Weekly under the romance section.

I cooked pasta, Ron's favorite, for dinner and got out a bottle of wine, secretly hoping that we wouldn't just be celebrating four months. I waited, sitting at the table, my nerves a complete mess. I remember looking at the clock of spoons Molly Weasley had installed in the flat Ron and I shared. I thought it was broken, as his spoon was still stuck on 'Work'. He was a Keeper for the Chudley Cannons and had practice at night, but never that late.

When he finally arrived home, I was half-asleep on the couch, but livid. We had a huge row, even going as far as bringing up things that had been annoying us during school. I called him something along the lines of a thick-headed prat who loved Quidditch more than me, and he in turn called me a bookworm who was more involved in Auror business than our relationship.

He ended up Apparating out and staying at Harry and Ginny's, at least that's what the clock said, blasted thing. From then on, I didn't trust it. I was left in the flat to wallow in self-pity, which then turned into anger, and finally into guilt.

He was right in saying that I was more involved in my work than our relationship. With as much anger I had used in my tone defending my job, you'd think it was the most important one in the world. Truthfully, with the war over and done with, there wasn't much work left for Aurors to do, so I was given a desk job which consisted of me editing papers for the Daily Prophet. Somehow, that measly, pencil-pusher job just didn't seem quite worth the fight I'd just had with Ron.

I remember I spent the night finishing off the untouched bottle of wine, angry at myself for being so thick. I woke up and realized I was three hours late for work. After taking a strong hangover potion, I Apparated to the office. Upon reaching my desk, I was immediately yelled at by my boss for my tardiness. Completely frustrated with the situation, I hardly got any work done. Out of the twenty files I was supposed to have accomplished, I got a total of five completed.

When I got home, Ron was sitting at the dinner table with a sullen expression, dully picking at the left-over pasta. The room was filled with rubbish from the night before. I hadn't had the heart to pick any of it up earlier. Quietly, I made my way over to the table, and sat down next to him, intertwining our hands. We remained silent for a short period of time, before eventually meeting eyes.

"I'm sorry," he instantly blurted out. "You were right, I…" he trailed off, looking miserable. I felt the guilt in the pit of my stomach grow stronger.

I sighed and told him before he could continue that it wasn't me who was right, it was in fact him. I told him that he was right in telling me I was more involved in work than our relationship. I poured out all the thoughts that had been running through my head that day and the night before, and he took it all in, the concerned line in his forehead becoming more and more prominent with each sentence.

Finally, I told him how I thought it wasn't fair to him that I should be spending so much time at work. He looked momentarily confused, so I elaborated. Why should the both of us spend so much time apart, only to argue till our voices were hoarse when we did see each other?

I told him he deserved more than me, that he could easily find someone better than me. He closed him eyes, a pained expression appearing on his face as he realized what I was trying to tell him. My voice cracked as I finished. I told him that maybe we should take a break, continue with our careers and see where they would take us. If in a month we still dreadfully missed each other, we could try it again.

He let out long sigh, but opened his ocean-blue eyes and looked at me seriously. "If this is what you really want, Hermione, I'll do it. But only for you." He said with a note of regret in his voice. I remember being shocked that he hadn't even tried to argue back. Dumbfounded, I simply had nodded, before turning my head away, my eyes burning. I thought I was making the right decision. A short break would do our relationship some good.

Wrong. One month later found me burying myself in my work. I missed Ron terribly and hadn't seen him since that night in the flat. The day after we decided to have a break, he had packed his stuff while I was at the office and moved back to the Burrow. Both Harry and Ginny came often to visit me, but despite their attempts to comfort me, they were as baffled about the situation as Ron was.

Every night as I lay in my bed, I thought about how lonely it felt without his familiar presence lightly snoring beside me. I longed to cuddle with him, and remembered how he used to stoke my hair until I'd fallen asleep. My heart ached and I hated myself even more for breaking it off with him.

I remember once hearing that a best friend is someone who can see all the pain and hurt, even when you're fooling the world. I hoped Ron would see how much I regretted not being with him, enough that he would want to be with me again too.

I'd just sent an owl out to Ron asking if he would meet me on my lunch break so we could talk. I couldn't wait, and my heart was thumping wildly in anticipation of seeing him. How wrong I'd been to even suggest that blasted break! A few minutes later, I received the messy but all too familiar scrawl from Ron agreeing to meet me.

Sitting in the café, I sat waiting nervously and fiddled with my silverware every few seconds. As the bell above the door rang, signaling that a customer was entering, I snapped my head towards the entrance.

I felt a strange sensation fill my body as I watched the tall, red-headed man who'd stolen my heart look around the café briefly before spotting me motioning to him in the far corner. Finally, after a whole month apart, we could be together again… if he could ever forgive me, that is. Things were finally going to be fixed and I could stop delving deeper into my work to keep my mind off of him. We would get back together and be happy once more.

Wrong again. Giving me an easy-going smile, he sat down and looked at me. "How are you?" he asked me kindly. The answer on the tip of my tongue was that I was doing horribly without him, but manners drilled into me as a child took a hold of my voice, and I answered politely that I was fine. Formalities out of the way, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the small table standing in between us.

"I've got some news, Hermione." He began nervously. A little trepid with the situation, I nodded, encouraging him to continue. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he abided. "I'm seeing someone." He said quietly, looking down at the cloth on the table as if it were suddenly extremely interesting. I blanched.

What was going on? This was not how I had pictured our reunion at all. Distressed, I shook the images of us passionately snogging and asked him who it was and how long they'd been seeing each other. "It's Lavender Brown, you remember her," he said as I gritted my teeth and recalled the girl from school.

"Well, about two weeks after you and I…er…right, you know, I ran into her at Diagon Alley. So we started talking and…well we went the next evening. I guess you can say we've been dating since then." He continued going on about why she was so great for him, but I heard none of it. My vision hazed out and all I could think about was the pasta at my flat I'd cooked that morning, expecting Ron to be there later that night.

Somehow, I managed to cry out an excuse and made it back to the flat without so much as stumbling over my words, or shedding a tear once. The minute I closed the door, I leaned heavily against it and sank to the cold, wooden floor.

I tried my hardest to keep the tears from leaking out, but one slipped out anyways. As soon as the first one hit the floor, I could no longer hold them back. I pulled my knees up towards my chest and hugged them as if it was the last thing I would ever do. My head fell forward and my cries were muffled, though my body trembled with sobs.

What in the bloody hell had just happened? Within a span of about three minutes, I'd lost the one person I truly loved. No, I automatically corrected, loved isn't a word. There is no past tense for love. If you love someone, you will always love them, no matter what. So my question is; when did Ron Weasley stop loving me?

(… … … … …)

A/N: Good, bad, okay, needs work? First R/H fic so please review, I'd really like to hear your thoughts. I planned on having another chapter, but it all depends on whether this first one is any good.

Sunflour