Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I get nothing from this (except derisive laughter). Don't sue me, please.

"This next round is yours, Weasley," said Rob Kozir, Ron's supervisor in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Rob was a chaser for the Cannons, but had to retire after a bizarre incident involving a non standard bludger and an enchanted glass of lemonade. Arthur Weasley had helped him get a job in the Ministry, and Rob and got Ron in as well.

"I thought I got the last one," Ron slurred. He was already pissed, just as he had been nearly every night for the last three months.

"No, Ron," said Hanford, a former Quiddich official. "That was five rounds ago."

"Wealsey, you've kept up with us ex-athletes pub crawling. Surely they don't teach that at Hogwarts now, do they?" Rob said.

Ron grunted noncommittally. The truth was that he preferred his brain to be fuzzy nowadays. As a junior officer in the department, his days were filled with complaints regarding officiating, injury reporting, and fan behavior. His nights were filled with being close to Hermione, but miles away. Loitering in the pub kept him out of flat. The drinking allowed him to simply pass out when he stumbled home. His co-workers were pretty heavy drinkers so he fit right in.

Hanford said, "Are you ever going to bring your friend Potter with you?"

"He's been spending all his time going out with my sister. She's gone back to Hogwarts now, so maybe he'll have some time."

"So, when are you going to find yourself a girl, Ron? And what about your other friend, is she spending all her time with some guy now?" Hanford asked.

"Hermione, she doesn't like going out much. As for me, I'm not sure who'd have me."

"Come on Ron," said Rob, "that bird in the corner has been checking you out for the last two weeks. It's time you bought her a drink. What could you possibly be waiting for?"

- - - - -

They had known they were close. All the horucruxes had been destroyed. They were ready to track down and confront Voldemort.

He and Hermione had been inseparable during the last months. They watched protected each other as much as they protected Harry. They held each other for comfort after each horrible encounter with Lord Voldemort's horucruxes. Ron had dreaded that he would be forced to choose between protecting Harry or Hermione at some point. He knew that he that Harry was most important to Wizarding world, but he's not sure he could sacrifice Hermione. But he did nothing more about it. The hurt from the previous year had not totally subsided, and Ron was not ready risk the friendship so very nearly lost.

However, by this time Ron realized that he did not fancy Hermione, he was in love with her. He had been since sometime in his fourth year, but he didn't identify it for what it was until recently. He also knew now that tomorrow may never come. He had to tell her how he felt, no matter how scared of her reaction. She had to know.

He gazed at her in the firelight. Her hair was more wild than usual from their rough living conditions, but her eyes were glowing with the look that made his heart melt.

"Hermione," Ron said. "I have to tell you something…" And the ambush began.

Now it was gone. Hermione may never again be Hermione. All the fantasies he had of her in a beautiful wedding dress, a lovely home in the country, and a gaggle of children running around it with bushy red hair was gone. His dreams of holding her, kissing her, making love to her, hearing her complain that he never read Hogwarts, A History when they were old and grey had vanished in a puff of magical energy.

Of course, he thought, this had just been fantasy anyway. A woman like her would never really want poor, gangly, and mediocre Ron Weasley. She would want someone who matched her own intellect. Some one who was a professor or worked at the Ministry. Maybe she'd hook up with a famous Quiddich player, even Krum. She wouldn't want to waste her life making babies with Ron Wealsey. There closeness this past year was probably just from the danger they both faced and their loyalty to Harry. With their common cause gone, she'd surely move on if she recovered. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up only to have her leave for bigger things than him.

- - - - -

"There is nothing I'm waiting for. I'm going to buy her that drink."

Claire was her name. She had light brown hair green eyes. She worked in a dress shop in Diagon Alley. She couldn't believe she was talking to one of then trio. She was nice, but about as interesting as Lavender. Oh well, Ron thought, this is the kind of women that I'm likely to attract.

Ron and Claire found that they both enjoyed heavy drinking, and were quite pissed by closing time. Together they stumbled back to Ron and Harry's flat. Ron spent a good thirty seconds trying to unlock the door with key, and another minute sending alohambras about, missing the lock but taking out a few lights in the hallway, before managing to get the door open. They entered and Ron thought, damn, why is she still awake.

Hermione was relaxing in the little pond that Harry had made for her. She perched herself on the edge and wiggled her whiskers.

"Oh my god, what's that?" Claire squeaked.

Ron though quickly, at least as quickly as he could in his state. "Oh that's just my roomate's pet otter. He's a bit of a nutter, really."

Hermione's whiskers dropped. She let out a squeal that almost sounded like a cry and disappeared down the hall of the flat.

"Did it hear you?" Claire asked. "How can it understand? Oh my, is that her? I heard something strange happened to her. You called her a pet?"

"It's just a little joke."

"Um, I had better go. It was nice meeting you." Clair left.

Ron grumbled, went to his room, and passed out.

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