Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…

Ron could only think of one reason that he had chosen Brisbane as his destination; for the only person he knew who lived in Australia lived in Brisbane, no matter how vaguely he knew Carrie Brown. She had seemed nice at the party; if he had not been there with Katie then he might have even consider her dating material, and she had been helpful enough. Ron knew that he would attract many stares, wandering around the streets clutching a muggle plug but it wasn't as though Arthur Weasley hadn't done it before.

Ron flew out of a fireplace in a small coffee shop, in the centre of the city. He coughed, and looked around at everyone inside. There wasn't much to look at. Though the inside of this place could have been called by some 'quaint' or 'cute' it could be easily referred to as 'small', and there were no more than two people sitting inside of it. An old witch, with long grey hair pulled into plaits that hung about her waist in tattered bows, was sitting behind the counter, and she smiled, awkwardly, at Ron, who was standing just outside the fire grate, covered in soot.

"Hello dear." She greeted him. The other person in the room, a small wizard with a bent and crooked pointed hat that almost brushed the ceiling it was so high, eyed Ron suspiciously, without smiling. He seemed immensely curious as to who the red haired man was.

"I'm in Brisbane, aren't I?" asked Ron apprehensively. The lady behind the counter nodded.

The little man raised one eyebrow at the lady behind the counter, obviously wanting to comment on the fact that Ron had a very distinguishing British accent. He bit his tongue, however, and the lady spoke, to fill the awkward silence.

"Yes, yes you are. I'm Madame Doherty. We don't actually get many other wizards around here you know? Always glad to see a new face! Would you like a room?" she gestured to a rickety staircase in the corner, eagerly, "It's reasonably priced, I assure you. And you can stay for as long as you like. I'd be glad of the company!" she shared. The man snorted, and Madame Doherty jumped a little. "Well, I have old Marcus here, but he doesn't speak all that much."

Marcus grunted.

"Well you don't!" she argued. Ron nodded, and turned back from the staircase, realising that he was yet to speak, "Yes, thanks, that would be great. I'll only need it for one night, thanks." He said, and smiled gratefully at Doherty, and then attempted to smile at Marcus, who was still eyeing Ron as though he were going to explode at any minute.

"Well then, I suppose that you have business to attend to here in Brisbane. I wont ask you what it is, don't worry about that, don't like to pry I don't-"

Marcus inserted another opposing grunt here, with made Doherty throw him a reproachful look, with her round, blue eyes, one of mock hurt.
"I don't! Now, to get back in, the password is midnight, you'll be able to see the entrance, but muggles wont. And good luck!"

"Thanks. Oh, and would I be able to use your fireplace one more time? I just need to talk to some one." Ron asked, nervous about imposing on the kind woman so much. She just laughed.

"Don't fret, of course you can! Long distance I expect." She said, grinning, obviously still referring to Ron's accent. He grinned, a little uncomfortable, with his thoughts flying ceaselessly from Carrie to Lavender to Hermione to his daughter. Mainly to his daughter.

As angry as Ron was, he couldn't help wonder about what he would do when he found Hermione. Would he scream at her? Throw a tantrum, break down, or just sit, and ask all the questions that were posed in his mind about the curious young girl. Was her childhood good? Is she smart? What Quidditch team does she go for? Does she know that her mother helped fight in the greatest war that wizards have ever seen? Did she know that her parents (This was when Ron began to spin) fought in the greatest war that there has ever been? What was her favourite colour? And food?

Everything was spinning around in his mind, so that by the time he stuck his head into the blue flames he barely felt any difference as his head hurtled it's way back to England.

"Lavender?" he asked, when his head reached the other side of the grate. He was in Lavender Thomas' living room, the fire large and welcoming central in the huge room. Ron didn't like the thought of going to Lavender for help. Especially when the help involved finding Hermione. He felt almost as though he was betraying himself, but it was the only place that he could think to start looking, and if he had to sacrifice his pride to get answers then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Lavender, who was currently walking out of the room stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly towards the fireplace, a smile on her face. Ron nodded, for her to come closer to the fireplace.

"Ron Weasley! How have you been?" she asked, happily. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Oh, really brilliant." He said sarcastically. "Listen, I need to know where your cousin lives. Can you maybe give me her address? I know I sound stupid, but I need her help with something."

Lavender's brow furrowed. "With what?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Does it matter? An old friend of mine, alright, she's Australian, I need Carrie's help tracking her down!" Ron was getting more and more agitated. The fact that Lavender was taking so long in helping him get the truth out from Hermione, even though she didn't realise that this was what she was doing, was extremely annoying. The irony wasn't lost on Ron, and he was very annoyed by that.

"Lavender? Help, please? This hurts you know!" he groaned. He also didn't enjoy the way that his head was stuck near the ground, and she had the power to stare down at him in that patronising way. Like she knew something that he didn't.

Lavender clasped her hands together. "An old friend! Would I know them?" she asked, delighted.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You might." He answered darkly, angered still by the coincidence.

Lavender's face broke out into a grin so instantaneously that Ron was sure she had shone a light through her ears. She turned her back on the fire, and delved into a set of drawers that was set on the opposite wall. A crease appeared in Ron's forehead. The pain in his knees made him feel as though they would split open at any minute.

"Lavender! What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked, through gritted teeth, feeling that the whole visit must have been a waste of time.

"Lavender!"

"Hold on!" she argued back. Then she produced a thick black book.

"Here!" she proclaimed, placing herself cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire. Ron preferred it this way. He didn't feel so inferior, all of a sudden.

"I have been meaning to plan a Hogwarts reunion for forever, I have everyone's addresses in here! You have no idea how long it has taken me to track down everyone! Well, everyone who survived." She trailed off, a sad glint in her round eyes.

Ron wasn't listening to this; it was the next part of the conversation that caught his attention.

"Yep, everyone! I'm, so proud, I finished off the collection just a month ago!" she was grinning like a manic. "So who is it that you want to find? Because they're in here, I can promise. You don't need my cousin for that!"

Ron looked shocked. How could she have Hermione's address? Why would Hermione give that to her? She hated Lavender! Ron cleared his throat, and then spoke with a voice that felt detached from his body in a way that even his fire born head was not;

"Hermione. Granger, Hermione." He said, attentively. Lavenders features fell a little. Her eyes narrowed. If Ron hadn't known better then he would have thought that she was still jealous of Hermione. But there was something else there too, and Ron couldn't place it, no matter ho hard he tried. Lavender knew something that she wasn't letting on.

"I don't have hers." Lavender said, after a long time of silence, where the pain in Ron's knees was horribly noticeable again. Ron groaned.

"What? But you said that you had everyone's!" he moaned. Lavender smiled sadly.

"I didn't think that you were that thick Weasley. Hermione Granger, keep in touch with me? Yeah right." She snorted, and took out another piece of paper from the inside of the black book instead, and tapped it with her wand.

"But here. It's Carrie's address. Take it, go visit her, maybe she can be more of a help than I am." She said, sadly. Ron smiled gratefully, and Lavender placed the paper in his mouth, and then tapped him on the top of the head. Ron, for a moment, felt uncomfortably like a pet dog.

"Bye Ron." Lavender said kindly. Ron grunted thanks, through a mouthful of paper, and pulled his head out of the fire.

Doherty and Marcus were both sitting at a table drinking from large mugs of tea when Ron arrived back at the shop, and they turned, Doherty smiling, Marcus looking gruff, and greeted him when he arrived. Ron pulled the paper out of his mouth and looked at the address on it. A feeling ran through him of foreboding, of trepidation, and of fear. Most of all fear. What if this woman could lead him to Hermione? The fact that he didn't know what he would do, or how he would react when he saw her was what scared him the most. He was scared of what he would do. Terrified.

"Thanks for that. I'll be back tonight, if it's all right?" Ron asked, and Madame Doherty nodded serenely from the corner, a small smile on her lined face. Ron smiled back, feeling sick all the same, and headed for the door, shaking slightly.

When Ron was outside he turned on the spot, and, with a sharp crack, disappeared to the front of Carrie Brown's house. Ron looked up and down the street. This was not the type of place that he would have expected her to live. Shinny white muggle houses bore down on him from all sides, the dimming sunlight bouncing off their gleaming surfaces and glaring at him.

He had expected Carrie to live somewhere a little more isolated and a little less prescribed, the identical houses making him confused. The only thing that was different about each of them was the gleaming silver numbers that adorned the mailbox, and told him which house belonged to Carrie. Ron swung open the gate that belonged to number four, and walked down the thin pathway that led to the door.

Ron knocked on the door eagerly, and waited.

Hermione heard a knock at the door. She was puzzled, but put the sudden arrival down to door-to-door salesmen, and walked slowly, and regretfully to the front of the house. When she pulled back the door, however, there was no salesman there.

He knows. She thought desperately, he's found out. It's all over.

Hermione's head spun dangerously on her neck as she realised that the moment she had dreaded for eleven years had finally come. It hadn't come at all how she had wanted it too; though she didn't have any picture in her mind of the meeting being pleasant, no matter what the circumstances.

Ron Weasley looked at Carrie Brown. She seemed utterly stunned. At least she hadn't forgot who he was.

There was a split second where Hermione considered slamming the door back in Ron's face, and hiding in a cupboard for the rest of her life. She could have very well don't that, however, the realistic side of her; the side that often questioned weather her years at Hogwarts had been but a dream, knew that she couldn't do that, that it wouldn't be fair, and that this was what had been bound to happen from the moment that she knew she was pregnant.

Ron's face was flushed, and his eyes were scared, and fierce, and he seemed very distracted. Hermione had one split second in which to decide weather to invite him in, break down sobbing, or slam the door in his face and hide in the wardrobe forever. She was in too much shock to do anything by the first.

"Carrie." Ron said, desperately, a crease appearing in his forehead. Hermione snorted, alarmed. "Carrie I need your help! I'm so sorry to just turn up like this."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and stood aside, allowing Ron to walk into her house.

"Er, sure." Hermione said, in barely a whisper, "Come on in."

Ron nodded gratefully, and headed through, letting Hermione lead the way through the house and to the kitchen, where she sat them around the dining room table, and went to make him a coffee.

"Um…" even though Ron was in a state of immense distraction, and confusion, he couldn't help but notice the lack of wizardry apparent in this witch's house. She was making his coffee in a machine that looked like a shiny teapot, and bubbled and churned dangerously. " I thought you were a witch?" Ron asked her, puzzled. Hermione jumped, and pulled a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. She didn't turn around, from where she was standing at the kettle. She was having trouble breathing. Ron Weasley was in her house, in her kitchen, drinking coffee. Drinking coffee with Carrie Brown. Oh what a mess she had made.

"So Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, when she had regained her breath. Ron seemed to take the hint of her not answering his question, and didn't pursue the matter, but he continued to stare around at all the power points, and the fridge, which was whirring in the corner, and the electric hot plate.

Ron gave Hermione a sad smile, and accepted the coffee that she handed him, gratefully. He took a long sip from the mug before answering, not wanting to have to tell the story.

"I'm looking for an old friend. She lives here. Lavender gave me your address, you know Australia, you might be able to help me find her."

"Australia's pretty big Ron." Hermione said, chuckling nervously. "Her? What happened to Katie? Does she know that you're here?"

Ron shook his head, hanging it low.

"No, we're not together anymore." He confessed. The joy Hermione suddenly felt must have shown on her unfamiliar face, because Ron looked at her, confused.

Hermione thought about telling him then. She was really very close to it. He was alone, she could explain it. It was a better opportunity than she was ever going to get; he was in her house, there was no one around. Jess was at Hogwarts.

"So then who is this woman? The one that you're looking for?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Just an old friend. Someone I used to know a very long time ago." Ron's fists curled in his pockets, thinking about what Hermione had hidden from him. If Carrie couldn't help him find her then he didn't know what he would do.

"I cant help you find her if I don't have a name Ron." Hermione said kindly, her heart beating violently against her rib cage, hurting her chest, making her breathes jagged and putting her mind on the edge, but she had too keep going, not look away, let her eyes sink into those of Ron, there swimming baby blue making her feel like she was an fifteen year old again, sitting opposite him in class, hoping that he wouldn't look across and catch her staring.

"Ron?" she prompted again, and Ron deflated under her glance.

"Her name's Hermione Granger. She used to be my best friend and then I did something incredibly stupid. Well, no, actually, it looked as though I did something incredibly stupid, but then she did something that was even stupider than the thing that it looked like I did and now…well, I need to find her." He finished, tears of anger in his eyes, thinking that he had talked so ridiculously that Carrie wouldn't have picked up on anything that he was saying, and that she would be too blown away by the speed of his speech to ask again, however, the words had hit the woman sitting opposite him like a tidal wave, and fierce, fiery emotions were coursing through Hermione like a flood, making her eyes fill up with tears.

Ron looked up from where he was staring at his hands, and saw that she was about to cry. This shocked him, immensely. He barely knew Carrie, and he didn't think that his dry accounts of the events had been all that moving. Maybe she was crying because she thought him mentally unstable. That could very well be it.

"Oh Ron." Hermione sobbed, and the tears spilled over, and ran down her cheeks, "I'm sure that she didn't mean to do that thing that was stupid. I'm sure that she thought that she was doing what was right at the time. I'm sure that, if she were here now, she would take back everything that has ever happened, and, not hope that you would love her, but at least not hurt her, or hate her forever." she said. Ron looked at her eyes, which were watery, and seemed larger through the tears. He stood from his seat.

"Seriously, why do you find it so sad? You don't even know me?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows, and wanting to comfort her, but not knowing how. Hermione sniffled, and whipped the tears of her face, without much persistence.

"Its just that, I'm so sad for you. I don't even think that I can help." She lied, trying still to stop the crying. "I've never even heard of this Hermione Granger, and I wouldn't know where to start to look. I am so sorry. I hope that you have some luck." She wasn't lying this time. She did want him to have luck. She wanted him to be lucky, go out into the world, and fall I love.

"Sorry Ron, I need to go out, I forgot, I have to work."

"Now?"

"Yes, I am really sorry. "Hermione sniffed for the last time, though her eyes still shone obviously, and the outsides of them were surrounded with a thin rim of red. Ron was dumbstruck. This woman was probably the most confusing that he had ever met.

"You have to go to work now?" he asked. Hermione fixed him with an almost pleading expression.

"I really am sorry." She commented, sincerely. Ron led the way down the hall, and to the front door.

"Well, thanks for trying anyway." He said, giving her a tiny smile, sorry for making her cry. That was when the picture, hanging on the wall of the hallway, caught his eye.

"Goodbye Ron." Hermione said, holding the door open. She didn't notice that Ron's jaw had dropped so low that it may as well have been scrapping the doormat. His eyes were wide, in utter astonishment.

Ron ignored the open door, and walked back down the hall, until he was level with the picture. He stared at the girl. He stared at the chocolate brown eyes of his laughing, four year old daughter. Then he turned back to the woman that he knew as Carrie Brown, and into the hopeless, chocolate brown eyes who had retired, given up, magnified by tears. Ron's amazement, and understanding, turned into ruthless anger in the blink of an eye, and he clenched his fists in his pockets, his nails digging into the skin of his palm.

Hermione knew that it was all over. She knew that there was nothing more that she could do but wait what Ron had to say.

Hermione opened her mouth, to apologise, or maybe to try and make things better, but Ron just strode out the door, and slammed in behind him, the deafening noise resonating in Hermione's ears as she sunk down the wall, and rested her head on her knees, defeated.

A/N: hope that that was all right! Please give me your comments! I would really appreciate them! I did write this a while ago, but it never really felt right. I'm not at all confident when writing Ron's character in detail, as you might have noticed, so sorry if this chapter is horrible! Argh. Thanks for reading this far! Review!

Luv Ella xXx