A/N:

Whaaat?! Another chapter? Hell, yeah!

I won't get tired of thanking Cheesyficwriter and RomioneB for their beta-ing magic. You rock!

The wizarding world, characters included, belongs to J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own is my gratitude for all the living – and not living, you never know – beings who take the time to read this fic.

Now I'll shush it and let you go...there's a talk waiting to be read...

'Why did you break up with me?'

Hermione stood still, gazing at me with an expression I couldn't read. We stared at each other in a lengthy silence until, suddenly, she muttered, 'Okay' at the same time that she let out a deep breath that I hadn't noticed she'd been holding in. Then, she turned around and began to walk towards the kitchen. As she passed me, I could see her taking deep breaths in and out as if to collect herself, and I turned around to follow her with my eyes.

'Where are you–'

'Wine,' she cut me off as she continued moving, 'if we're going to do this, I need wine. And food. I'm starving.'

'Shit! I'm sorry I didn't – Bloody hell!' I blurted as I passed her and headed to the refoodgerator to see what I could cook her.

I had just grabbed the door when Hermione's hand landed over mine. At her touch, I loosened my grip and let her take me by the hand and lead me to the kitchen table, where she urged me to sit on the chair closest to the stove.

'I'm sorry, Hermione. I offered...' I lifted my head to look at her as I tried to apologise for not making the food I'd promised, but the expression on her face left me speechless.

'It's fine, Ron.' she said, squeezing my hand that she hadn't yet let go of. 'Just… let me sort this out and we'll talk, okay?' I nodded, and she moved away.

I watched her in silence as she started to fumble around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients to make herself a sandwich – or two, from what it seemed. Seconds stretched to minutes as Hermione worked on the food, and I was going mental from anticipation. I couldn't stop repeating her letter in my head, her words mixing with every sound and move she made that were echoing too loud in my overworking mind.

The sound of a plate hitting the table startled me, and I opened my eyes to find a sandwich in front of me. Baffled, I turned to Hermione. She held a plate with an already bitten sandwich in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

'Do you want some?' she asked, wiggling the bottle.

'I'd rather–'

'Firewhisky?' she questioned. I nodded. She freed her hands before turning around and opening a cupboard, then another...and another.

'I can take the wine if you–'

'Oh, shush,' she said as she kept looking, 'I know I bought some when we moved in.'

'Look,' I started, already losing my patience, 'I'll just take the bloody wi–'

'Eureka!' she exclaimed, standing up in front of one of the lower cabinets holding up a bottle of Firewhisky.

After pouring both our drinks and putting them on the table, Hermione sat on the chair next to me, facing her food, and started to eat in silence. She hadn't eaten in many hours, so I attacked my own plate as I waited for her to finish. She'd known exactly what to do to keep me occupied so she could tuck into her food. The infuriating witch.

'I'm sorry you found that – the scrapbook, I mean.' Hermione blurted out once she'd finished her sandwich.

'I'm not.' I countered. 'In fact, I wish I would've seen it when I was supposed to, you know?'

She shook her head. 'I... you weren't supposed to see it...' She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. 'I shouldn't have left it there, knowing that you'd be around. I shouldn't even be looking at it in the first place. I...I should've got rid of it years ago when–'

'Merlin's saggy balls, Hermione!' I cut her off. I'd already had enough. 'This is exactly what we need to fix, the bloody mixed messages. Spell it out for me, will you? Why didn't you give me the scrapbook? Why did you keep it? Why in the hell do the kids call it your 'Happy Book'?

She sat up as if in slow motion and turned to face me, her expression determined. 'Because that scrapbook is my Happy Book. Because, despite that it breaks my heart, those are my happiest memories, Ron – besides the kids, of course.'

'Then why...?'

'Why didn't I give it to you?' she finished for me in a bitter tone. 'Because I couldn't. Not after…' she sighed. 'Did you know I went to New York to surprise you?' I shook my head no. 'Well, I did.'

'You mean, before Christmas? Before we–?

'Yes. Just...I wanted to see you so bad that I asked for an extra week on the Holiday we'd planned, took a Portkey, and went to find you.'

'Why am I just hearing about this now?'

'Because...because – Oh, Merlin!' she groaned as she stooped on the chair, squeezing her head between her hands. I could see her chest expanding and contracting as she breathed heavily. When she calmed down, Hermione straightened up and spoke again. 'I know you deserve the truth, Ron, and I'm willing to tell you everything. But there's a lot, and it's not...easy to confess. So I need you to please let me talk with no interruptions, so I don't lose my nerve, okay? Can you do that?' I nodded. 'Okay.' She said into the cup before downing half the contents in one gulp. 'Here we go.'

'Before I start, I need you to know that I'm not proud of how this happened nor of how I reacted and that I am fully aware that what I did was wrong. That being said – Merlin, this is hard – when I arrived at MACUSA, as I was making the immigration formalities, I...I overheard something from the Aurors that were guarding the International Portkey Arrivals. At first, I was elated to hear your name, but then, as I kept on listening to what they said...I was...not happy.'

'What did–'

'No interruptions, remember?' She held up one hand as she spoke as if to stop me from saying anything else. I mouthed a 'sorry' and shifted to accommodate my chair closer to Hermione as I waved for her to continue.

'So, I heard these men,' Hermione resumed, 'and they were talking about this Weasley boy that came with all these "cool ideas" and a thousand other things about your Auror skills – which didn't come as a surprise, of course, since I've always known how amazing you are. But then, they began to talk about how all the ladies loved you–' I cut her speech as a loud groan escaped me, 'Oh, yes. I groaned too when I heard it, Ron. Though not for the same reasons that you are now, mind. Anyway, they kept commenting on how the ladies would fight to be partnered with you and that you got assigned to the best cases, and...'

Hermione paused to pour herself more wine and took several long sips. 'Then they said some things about the Vegas Mission.' She continued with a grimace as if spilling the words from her mouth was painful. 'It is quite... different hearing about an undercover mission in Las Vegas from you than it was from them. You...you never mentioned how you had to go undercover. You see, I knew from you that you'd gone with a female partner and you had to spend a week in a five-star hotel...but you never told me that you had to pretend to be engaged–'

'Because it wasn't important, Hermione!' I snarled as I stood up and started pacing. Then, it dawned on me where she was going with this. 'You don't think I cheated on you, do you?' I asked, turning to face her again.

'I know you didn't, Ron.'

'Then, why was it important?'

'Because, in your own words, I am – was – a bloody idiot.' She stated, her face blank. I was stunned by her declaration, though the confusion must've shown on my face because she hastily added, 'I couldn't bear the thought of you walking around hand in hand with some astonishingly pretty Auror – a bombshell, I think they called her – and not because I thought you'd betray me. I know you would never...but everything that had been building during those months apart crashed down on me when I pictured you with another woman – even if it was just a pretence. All these ladies fighting over you...I...I couldn't…' she choked, unable to continue.

I rushed to hug her, kneeling in front of her chair and squeezing her into my chest. Hermione relaxed in my embrace and snuggled into my jumper. I began to sway at the same time that I nuzzled my face in her hair – her untamable vanilla-scented hair.

'You don't understand.' She sobbed.

'Then help me.' I whispered, closing my eyes and nuzzling into her ear. She whimpered and continued to cry, dampening my jumper.

After what must've only been a few minutes, but felt like hours, Hermione's breathing became less shaky, and she pulled back. Her face was flushed, her eyes puffy and red. My knees were hurting from resting on the hard tiles of the kitchen, so I climbed back into my chair, letting out a grunt as I moved. Once settled, I gave Hermione a half-smile, and she released an awkward, stiff chuckle in response.

'I wasn't at my best during those months.' Hermione started again. 'You weren't there because of the MACUSA Exchange Scholarship, Harry was too occupied with the last year of Auror training, and I was having a terrible time adapting to the job in Magical Creatures – trying to prove that I was there because I deserved it and not because of my "War Hero" status. I was overworking myself, doing extra tasks that I didn't have to do just because I thought it'd make people like me better – it didn't, by the way – and I was overthinking everything. All my insecurities and fears of not fitting into the Wizarding World were getting larger by the day.

'To add insult to injury, you were doing so well, Ron. Everybody, everybody was talking about the excellent work you were doing at MACUSA, about how amazing you were: the wizard that'd beat The Chosen One himself as the best Auror in the first year of training. I was so proud. So, so proud… But at the same time, it only made me feel unworthy of you. And then, it happened. The Witch Weekly award: "Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor" – and yes, I know you always say Skeeter gave you the award to piss you off, but still. It hurt. Do you know how it feels to be the girlfriend of someone prized as a fanciable bachelor? The things I had to listen to!'

I grabbed one of her hands and started to rub her knuckles the way I knew she found soothing. 'You never told me that.'

'I was ashamed! I thought I wasn't allowed to feel that way, that I was a bad girlfriend for doing so. I thought that if I told you, it would come out like I was jealous of your success – which I wasn't.' She smiled and lifted her free hand to my face, caressing me with the back of her hand as she spoke again, 'I was thrilled to see you shut the mouths of all of those who called you nothing more than Harry's sidekick. You don't know how pleasant it was to rub it in their faces, to prove to them how amazing you were – you are.'

I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch. 'I still don't understand, Hermione. Why did you push me away?'

'I told you already. Because I'm an idiot.' She let out a mirthless laugh. 'I felt like I wasn't enough, like someday you'd wake up and realise that I wasn't as amazing as you once thought I was, that you'd realise that you could do so much better than me: plain, unsuccessful Hermione Granger. When I heard that, besides your job, you were "popular with the ladies", I thought – I felt – like I was holding you back. And because you were so loyal, you'd never say it. You'd never admit it. You'd be with me – settle with me – forever. So I made the decision for you.'

I was shocked. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel. I was numb, shrouded in white noise.

'RON!' Hermione called. 'Are you okay? I've said your name about five times now.'

'I...no.' I mumbled, still feeling dazed.

'I'm so sorry, Ron.' Hermione said, and I could hear the pleading in her voice. 'I know this doesn't change what I did. But I will forever regret not telling you how I felt, not talking to you, making this decision for you. I didn't have the right to do it.'

'No, you bloody didn't!' I spat, the emptiness in my chest filling with anger, with pain.

'I'm...so s–sorry.' She sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

'If you regret it so much, how – fuck! – why didn't you say it? I would've taken you back, Hermione! I would've – shit! Shit!' I was pacing around the kitchen, hands shifting between pulling my hair to hitting the kitchen counter as I spoke.

'I–I thought I was doing the right thing,' she explained between sobs, 'and then it was too late, Ron. I tried to keep my distance when you were still in New York because I had convinced myself that it was the best for you, even if it broke my heart. And by the time you came back, you didn't seem to be sad in the slightest–'

'I CRIED MY SOUL OUT FOR BLOODY SIX MONTHS ALONE IN NEW YORK!' I yelled, punching the door of one of the upper cupboards.

Hermione jolted and grabbed her wand, but instead of pointing it at me, she flicked it towards the kitchen door, shutting it. Then, she flicked it again, probably for a silencing charm. I took a deep breath, trying to control my anger before speaking again.

'You broke me, Hermione. I've never felt so much pain in my life as I did when you ditched me. You took my future with you, my dreams...you took my – FUCK! – you took my h–heart.' I stuttered, hands clenched at my sides, fighting back tears.

I knew that if I started crying, I wouldn't be able to close the tap. Hermione, however, had lost the battle long ago and was openly crying, choking between sobs, clutching her hands with one another on her lap.

'When I came back, I was determined to win you back.' I confessed. 'You fell in love with me once, so I thought...I thought I could make you love me again. But then you killed the last ounce of hope I had when you reassured me that we ought to remain friends – sodding friends.'

Hermione stood up and grabbed a glass from the kitchen counter; she poured herself some tap water and drank it all in one gulp. Then, she leaned down to wash her face. It was blotchy and swollen around her eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out muffled under the tea towel she was drying herself with.

'About two years after I broke up with you, I went to MACUSA and had the honour of meeting the ladies.' Dropping the tea towel, Hermione crossed her arms, hugging herself, and stared at the floor in deep thought.

I knew what she was on about. It surely was the time she'd come to the understanding of how silly she had been. She'd figured I had some sort of entourage of adoring fans fighting over me when in reality, it was a section of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, a bunch of old witches – and wizards. The Ladies was the name of the Muggle bowling team they'd formed, which played weekly in a league dominated by men, hence the name. Every week, they would change into the uniform before leaving work, and so, people around started to call them "The Ladies". Every mission would have a "Lady" assigned since they were the ones with access to all of the Auror archives. The big irony of it all was that they'd fight to work with me only because I was careful with the books, took notes and revised ahead of schedule – all things I'd learned from Hermione.

'I felt so stupid – still do, to be honest.' She finished with a half-laugh, then lifted her face and met my eyes. 'I was so emotionally handicapped, you know? I sought help after that, psychological help – too much guilt. And I learned to live with it: the guilt and the blame. I had the best man I could possibly ask for, and I pushed him away because of my fears. I didn't deserve you then – maybe I never will. But in the end, whoever you wanted to love, it was your choice to make, not mine. I'm so sorry, Ron. For what I put you through. So, so sorry.'

'Hermione…'

'I kept it – the scrapbook – because it contains magic, and not the wands and spells type, the real one: love. Pure, loyal, genuine love. And so strong. A love so strong that no matter how hard I've tried to appease it, it's remained blazing.'

I gulped. If she was saying what I thought she was saying…

'You mean you still…?' Please say yes, please say yes.

'Yes,' Hermione confirmed, 'I've never...I don't think I can stop loving you. What we had, it was too strong.'

My heart was swelling in hope, but I needed to be sure. 'As...as a friend?' Please say no, please say no.

'No. I don't–'

Before I knew it, I was kissing her. Hands cupping her face to keep her close, lips dancing in synchrony. 'so...fucking…love…' I mumbled in between kisses, 'so...fucking...angry…'

I brushed my tongue over her lips and felt a fire ignite inside me as she allowed me entrance. Fuck! It had to be the best feeling in the world, kissing Hermione Granger, and I almost lost it when she moaned into my mouth. Letting out a loud groan, I pinned her to the kitchen counter as she stretched up on her tip-toes, provoking blissful friction.

I pulled back just enough to take a deep breath and attacked her mouth again, this time deepening the kiss as I ran my hands from her cheeks to her neck and down her back. When I reached the hem of her blouse, I didn't hesitate and slipped both hands under the silky fabric to begin the journey up again, crossing their paths into a hug and pressing Hermione further into me, her skin burning under my touch.

Another deep breath, but this time I kissed her jaw...her neck, her collarbone, then up again. When I reached her ear, I got carried away by instinct. Taking her lobe between my teeth, I dragged it out and loosened the grip just enough to let it slide out, following the releasing skin with my tongue. She rewarded me with a moan that resembled my name. I felt myself growing hard and knew that if I didn't stop now, I wouldn't be able to stop at all.

I opened my eyes, hoping that a glance at my surroundings would ground me enough to remain in control. I was looking at the sink, and as my sight focused, I took in what I was staring at. It was Rose's blue plate with green leaves and purple flowers.

Rose.

Hugo.

The Twins.

And just like that, as fast as the passion had come, it was gone.

I pulled back to address Hermione face to face. She was still gripping my shoulders, and I waited until she opened her eyes before I blurted out, 'If you've been...if you've been in love with me all this time, why didn't you ask me for the, uhm, the help for the twins?'

She blinked, her expression confused. 'Uh? The...the – what?'

'The sperm,' I clarified, taking a step back to lean on the table. 'When you needed a donor, why didn't you ask me?'

Hermione's arms dropped at her sides as I moved away. She stood looking at me for a moment, processing what I had asked. As understanding flickered in her eyes, she straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. 'Because as much as I was in love with you at that time, I had no idea that you had romantic feelings about me too. How could I ask you such a thing?'

'C'mon, Hermione! There's no way you didn't know I was head over heels about you!'

She scoffed. 'And from which of your multiple dates was I supposed to infer that?'

'Multiple what? I never had a serious relationship in the time between when we broke up and you left!'

'But you were with multiple other women! You didn't need to be in a relationship. How was I–'

'This isn't happening,' I said, shaking my head, 'this isn't bloody happening!'

'Oh, Merlin! I am not a seer, Ron! How could I – ahh!' She cried, throwing her arms in the air, exasperated. 'Besides, I did try to send you a message, but I thought you weren't interested!'

'What d'you mean? What bloody – don't tell me it was the list!'

'What else could it be?!' she shrieked, 'I basically described you! I mean, if you didn't get that...'

'I got the bloody message!' I yelled and ran my hands over my face, 'I tried to kiss you on New Year's, but you were too busy with sodding whatever-his-name-was!'

'I was trying to make you jealous, Ron–'

'Merlin, not again...'

'Oh, but you did so well, didn't you? What did you do, Ron? Remind me, please!' She made circles with her hand beside her head as if showing some thinking process.

'I'd rather not speak about that party.' I mumbled.

'Oh, now you don't want to talk! Well, I can tell you what you did. You acted like a spoiled child and locked me in a room! So much for romance!' Hermione started to pace. She pulled her hair to the side and ran her fingers through it, making her curls stick out in all directions.

'I tried to tell you that I loved you that day.'

She stopped short and turned to me, frowning. 'Then why didn't you?'

'YOU DIDN'T LET ME!' I shrieked, my arms flailing through the air.

'OH, SO NOW IT'S ALL MY FAULT, IS IT?!' Hermione stomped towards me, stopping just a few inches from where I stood.

'Oh, bloody hell. I can't do this again!' I pivoted on my heels and started to walk to the other side of the kitchen, away from Hermione.

'If you wanted the job so badly, why didn't you offer? You could've said: "Hermione, I want to be the father of your , have me". But no, you didn't!'

I hastily turned around, and wriggling both arms in the air, I yelled, 'I TRIED! But you found yourself a donor before I could act!'

'Oh, for Godric's sake, Ron! You don't know how depressed I was because he wasn't – he wasn't YOU!'

'You were depressed?' I challenged. 'You? You are not the one that lost the chance to be a Dad, Hermione. I AM!'

I dropped onto the nearest chair with the last two words, defeated, and covered my face with my hands. Tears were threatening to burst out. I heard a chair being dragged, then a pair of tiny hands gripping my wrists and pulling them to the side to release my face. When I opened my eyes, Hermione was sitting in front of me, her chocolate brown eyes looking at me with such love that my heart clenched in my chest.

'For all I knew, you had moved on. You were dating, having fun – having a life. And I'm not saying that it was wrong of you, not at all, just that I had no possible way to guess what you were feeling. To me…to me you were only protective and caring, as you always have been; and I told as much to everyone who would suggest that we were anything beyond friends – I told them you didn't see me like that.' She shifted over on her chair and cupped my face, resting her forehead on mine. 'I ran to Australia because I couldn't bear to play the happy family with you, knowing that it was all in my head. Knowing that you didn't love me. That I would never…' she choked. 'That I would never really be a Weasley.'

Grabbing the chair at one side of Hermione for support, I hooked my free arm around her and pulled her closer. 'Then why did you come back? Why now?'

She chuckled. 'For you...My mum...We talked. I told her the entire story – everything I told you before.' Hermione said, sliding her arms over my shoulders, locking them behind my neck. 'She convinced me that I could still win you back. She said that I owed you the truth. And that even if you didn't forgive me at first, I should stay here and keep fighting because this is my world, my home – you are my home. Oh, and then she told me they were coming back too, that part was true.'

I squeezed her tighter and started to nuzzle my nose into hers. 'Smart woman, that Jean.'

'That, she is.' Hermione let out a shaky breath, between a sigh and laugh. Then, brushing her lips against mine, she added, 'I am sorry, Ron. I wish...I wish I could change the past, but I can't. I can only offer you a future...if you'll take me.'

Oh, bloody buggering hell!

I kissed her so hard that I was surprised she didn't complain. There was so much in that kiss: so much pain, so much love, so much hope.

'I love you so fucking much, Hermione.' I panted when we came up for air, 'But I'm so, so fucking pissed with you, too.'

'I'm sorry, I–' she couldn't finish because I was kissing her again, harder, hungrier.

'Stop apologising, please. I don't...I need time, okay? I just need you to give me time to heal, and we'll be fine.' I kissed her again.

'For all that I'm angry about you, I love you a hundred – a thousand – times more.' I said, nipping her lip. 'Of course I'll take you, love...I – sod it, no more words.' With that, I pulled her onto my lap, wrapping her in a crushing hug for another kiss filled with all the longing of so many years.

Another note:

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